


"So, not just karma then, Chief?"

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Jim Ellison believes it is destiny at work when he encounters a young man who appears to be the answer to controlling his wayward senses.  However, he must work to convince his prospective partner that they are meant to be together, and the task isn't made any easier when others target the young man for their own despicable reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"So, not just karma then, Chief?"

**Part 1. An Unlikely Remedy:**   


**Monday morning, Captain Simon Banks’ office, Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit:**  


“You have _got_ to be kidding me, detective! I simply _cannot_ swallow such bullshit!” 

The big captain’s incredulous bellow was loud enough to be heard out in the bullpen, and more than enough to cause the room’s only other occupant to wince and scrunch his face up in utterly unfeigned agony. Shocked by the man’s dramatic reaction, Simon Banks paused to truly scrutinise his friend and subordinate, and reluctantly held his tongue as he reconsidered – and now regretted - his instinctive knee-jerk response to Jim Ellison’s words. His brow now creased in a perplexed frown and lips tightly pursed, Simon was forced to admit that the other man genuinely wasn’t angling for sympathy he wouldn’t expect to receive anyway, but was, in fact, in serious trouble. The Ellison he had come to know and respect would rather suffer root canal treatment without anaesthetic than admit to needing help. 

However, whether what ailed Jim was actually due to the implausible cause he had just propounded was a different matter altogether, and Simon felt that his scepticism was justified up to a point. That said, Ellison’s patrician features were pinched and pale, and the new lines that scored his handsome face were far more pronounced than they should be for a normally very fit and healthy individual of just turned forty years of age. In fact, up until a few weeks ago, Simon would have considered that Ellison was undoubtedly a fine specimen of a man; a fact borne out by the number of would-be suitors of both sexes who cast out their seductive nets in the hope of capturing his undivided attention; mostly with limited success. 

Huffing out a deep sigh, Simon forced himself to continue in a more reasonable tone. Jim didn’t deserve his blustering aggression, and he was honest enough to recognise his own short-comings when it came to dealing with matters that had the potential to adversely affect his department and upset his personal equilibrium. 

“OK, Jim. So let’s say you’ve convinced me that you really are suffering. I can see that for myself now, and I realise I should have called you on it before now. My bad. But are you sure that there’s no other reason? Something explicable – and hopefully treatable? I mean, I’m assuming you have sought other opinions, also?” 

Jim’s grimace and snort of pure exasperation answered that one for him, so he soldiered on doggedly. 

“Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m not suggesting that I think you’re deliberately lying or fantasising, believe it or not. I know you’re a man of integrity, and my best investigator by far. And I’d like to think my friend also. But out-of-whack senses? Who came up with that one? And why you? Why now?” 

Curbing his anger and impatience with a considerable effort, the other man took several deep breaths both to try and regain a modicum of composure and also to give himself time to beat his over-sensitive hearing into reluctant submission. After all, he himself didn’t want to accept the theory with which he had been presented, so it wasn’t inconceivable that his very pragmatic boss would have trouble in accepting it too. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, Jim attempted to work through the headache building behind his eyes, once again cursing whatever deity he had managed to anger enough to be plagued by such an arcane and debilitating condition. 

Finally looking up to meet Simon’s now worried gaze, he began to speak, needing to convince his boss and friend of his veracity if he was to have any chance of gaining the man’s support. 

“I know, sir. I know just how ridiculous it sounds. Esoteric bullshit for sure. But I’m telling you that all the doctors I’ve seen, and all the barrage of tests they put me through came up with nothing. Zilch, zero, nada, zip. Apparently I’m as healthy as a horse, so it’s all in my mind. 

“And you can imagine how good _that_ made me feel! I’m telling you, Simon, that last supercilious bastard came _this close_ to having his teeth knocked down his throat!” and Jim held up his hand with thumb and forefinger a mere fraction of an inch apart to demonstrate the extent of his irritation. “He as good as told me to my face that either all my symptoms were psychosomatic, or I was angling for medical discharge. Or both! 

“But I swear Simon, that’s just not true. You know how much this job means to me. No way do I want to give it up. But now this ‘condition’ seems to be worsening, and I’m worried that the latest manifestation could get someone killed. I’m willing to try anything that’ll prevent that happening.” 

Simon could easily discern the utter sincerity in the wounded ice-blue eyes that held his own, and knew it was up to him to offer what support he could despite his own misgivings. Jim deserved no less of him. 

“OK, Jim. So let’s take it from the top again, _without_ me sounding off. Let me see if I’ve got this right. You say that all your senses are affected, so that at any given time you can be caught out by painful spikes from one or more to the extent that you are temporarily incapacitated, am I right? And you never know what’s going to set you off and stimulate such a reaction?” 

“Yeah, that’s right, sir. Like this morning, when I took a shower, it felt as if my skin was being scoured off. See?” and he held out his arm again, pulling back the cuff of his sweatshirt to reveal angry-looking welts that ran up his arm. 

“Shit, Jim! Do those cover the rest of you too?” Simon’s shocked response was genuine, and Jim offered him a tiny, rueful grin as he replied. 

“Yeah, ‘fraid so, Simon. And right now my clothes might just as well be sackcloth and ashes. 

“But by far the worst thing, as far as I’m concerned, is this new tendency to lose time. I mean, this morning, once I’d managed to dry myself off, I was staring at the mirror, and found that I could see each individual droplet of moisture in the condensation as the light caught it. And the colours seemed to draw me in. I don’t know how long I was standing there, but I only came to when you phoned to see where I was, and by that time I was freezing my ass off. What if that happens out on the street Simon? What if I freeze in the middle of a fire fight?” 

“Well, shit, Jim. No wonder you’ve been such a pain in the ass lately. I mean, no one here expects you, the acknowledged, habitual loner, to be all sweetness and light. But recently I’ve had to deal with a whole slew of complaints about your behaviour towards everyone from your fellow detectives to the doughnut girl! I guess I can understand now where you’re coming from, Jim. I just wish you’d come to me sooner instead of trying to deal with it yourself. 

“But that said, explain to me again what your latest theory is. Who put you on to it, and just how might it help?” 

Jim’s grin came a little easier when he answered this time and the faintest hint of a sardonic spark lit his eyes as he explained, “It was Megs, sir. She offered to do some research on my behalf to see if there was anything on the ‘net that could explain it better than the quacks. I didn’t think it would hurt, and damned if she didn’t come up with some suggestions! She dug up some obscure references about some English explorer who wrote about what he called ‘tribal sentinels’ back in the nineteenth century. There wasn’t too much detail in the articles she found, but apparently these guys had heightened senses too, and used them for the benefit of their tribes. Trouble is, there’s nothing much about how they controlled them, so I didn’t think much about it. 

“Then, this morning, she came to me all excited and said she’d traced someone who might be able to help. Apparently there’s some young professor type at Rainier U who did his Master’s thesis on that very subject, so she Googled him. His name’s Blair Sandburg and he’s attached to the Anthropology Department. I thought I might look him up. It couldn’t hurt, and he might just be able to offer some pointers as to how I can control them. Or better still, turn them off.” 

Gazing intently into Jim’s earnest face, Simon gave himself a few moments to absorb his detective’s information before offering his opinion, upset at the raw despair in Jim’s expression which underlay the superficial hope and knowing instinctively that Jim needed his endorsement before undertaking such an unconventional course of action. After all, it was indicative of the depth of the other man’s need that he would even listen to advice from that particular source, let alone consider acting upon it. Megs – or Inspector Megan Conner – was an exchange officer recently seconded to Major Crimes from Australia’s New South Wales Police Department. Feisty, forthright and extremely competent, she was a welcome addition to MCU and readily accepted by nearly all its personnel except Ellison. Possessed of a personality as strong as Jim’s, it was inevitable that the pair should butt heads on a regular basis, so much so that Simon had learned early on not to partner them any more than absolutely necessary. 

Yet they both respected each other’s capability nevertheless, and underneath the tough exterior, Megan had a heart of gold, and frankly Simon wasn’t as surprised as Jim obviously was that she should offer to help her suffering colleague on her own time. 

“You know what, Jim? It doesn’t matter what I think. You know me. I treat everything I can’t see, touch or smell with a healthy dose of scepticism. But I’m always happy to be proved wrong, especially where the welfare of my people is concerned. And if Megan thinks there’s something to it, then I trust her judgement, man. That woman’s as level-headed an investigator as I’ve ever come across, so I say yes. Take a personal day tomorrow and see if you can trace this guy. As you say, it can’t hurt, and if it’s a dead-end, then so be it. At least you’ll have given it a shot.” 

Offering his superior a relieved, if rather pained grin, Jim nodded in assent. “Thanks, Simon. I guess I just needed to hear some encouragement from someone who’s the most level-headed investigator _I_ know. I’ll go to Rainier tomorrow morning, and let you know how I get on.” 

“Make sure that you do, Jim. And now, why don’t you call it a day? I’ll see you bright and early Wednesday morning, OK? 

“Good luck, man,” and his concerned gaze followed his friend as Jim exited the office to tidy his desk and make ready to leave.  


\---------------------------------------------  


**Following morning, Rainier University campus:**  


With a sigh of relief, Jim pulled into a spot in the parking lot nearest to Hargrove Hall, the building which housed Rainier’s Anthropology Department. As he turned off the engine, he sat back for a moment, giving himself time to settle body and mind as much as possible before going in search of the teacher he hoped might be able to shed some light on his condition. It was a long shot, to be sure, but the way he was feeling now, he’d try anything short of eating his gun. And even that was looking like a more tempting proposition as time went on. 

Wincing at a brief but sharp surge in the now customary low-level headache throbbing between his temples, Jim scratched unconsciously at the fresh welts beneath his cuff, grimly aware that he really shouldn’t have driven here today. Unless things improved soon, in all good conscience he would have to stop driving, and, indeed, accept either indefinite desk duty or medical leave if he wasn’t to endanger other innocents due to the consequences of increasingly erratic sensory input. 

Breathing deeply, Jim wrestled his sense of touch under some sort of control, grateful that for now his other senses seemed to be cooperating although he knew he had no room for complacency. At any given moment, something might set off one or another of them, and frightening images of himself, strait-jacketed and rolling around in a padded cell played unhelpfully in his imagination. 

Angrily clamping down on that morbid train of thought, he deliberately forced himself to calm down, diverting his attention by studying the pleasant environs of the campus, and watching the students passing by on their way to and from the building. They looked so young and carefree; eager young minds with the world ahead of them. A wry grin stretched his lips as he wondered how different his life might have been if he had had the same opportunity to study here as he had fully intended to do. 

But circumstances had conspired against him, cutting off that path and sending him off on another; one which for the most part he was content to have followed. And as he sat, he allowed himself for once to ponder on what he had achieved despite everything. 

The son of a hard-working and successful businessman, Jim and his younger brother Steven had benefitted from the material advantages of a wealthy and privileged background. However, for reasons known only to herself, Jim’s adored mother had walked out on her husband and sons when Jim was six years old, and life changed dramatically from then on in. His devastated father, left with two young sons to rear single-handed, had changed overnight into a ruthless and cynical tyrant, determined that his sons should become tough and resilient and disdainfully dispensing with the softer elements and emotions a mother’s influence would have provided. Employing a full-time housekeeper, Sally, who did her best to offer the boys at least a little female nurturing, he deliberately set them against each other in increasingly competitive situations until, after a final unforgivable incident, Jim had had enough. Packing his bags, he left the family home, never to return. Joining the army, he discovered a life in which he could excel, gaining his college degree through the OTC and advancing to the rank of Captain in the exclusive Army Rangers. He would probably be there still if a botched covert ops mission to Peru hadn’t completely disillusioned him, and he resigned his commission. 

Returning to Cascade, he had joined the PD, rapidly gaining his Gold detective’s shield and earning a reputation for ruthless and effective police work during a stint in Vice. When it was time for a change of scene, he had applied for, and was granted a transfer to the elite Major Crimes Unit, arriving there with an attitude and an arrogance you could cut paper with. He was ruefully aware that he had been a royal pain in the ass for the newly-promoted Captain Banks, but over the past few years he had undergone a necessary attitude adjustment, such that he now had the best arrest and conviction record in the PD. He was still a loner, and a hard man to get to know, but his colleagues trusted him even if they didn’t actually like him, and Simon was now as close a friend as he had ever had. 

True, he had made a brief foray into matrimony, wooing and wedding the Head of the PD’s Forensics Division, Lt Carolyn Plummer, but after mere months together they had decided they were better off as friends and separated in mutual relief. Retreating into his comfortable solitude, Jim had convinced himself that this was how he was meant to be, and had avoided anything but uncommitted and superficial relationships ever since. 

So now here he was. He had reached a point in his life and career with which he was generally satisfied, and could be justifiably proud of his achievements, only to be ambushed from left-field by this weird phenomenon. Life could truly sucker-punch you at times, for sure. 

And with that thought, Jim shook himself out of his brief reverie, and climbed out of his vehicle. Locking it up, he cast a brief and appreciative gaze over it, a tiny grin of affection tugging at his lips. The blue and white vintage 1969 F150 truck was his pride and joy, and he had even nicknamed it ‘Sweetheart’. It would be a blow indeed if he was forced to give up driving it for any length of time. 

_And that’s enough of that, Ellison,_ he thought. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get your ass into gear. You’ve got a professor to see._  


\--------------------------------------------------  


A short while later, an angry and despondent Jim was back at his truck, cursing his bad luck once again as his tentative hopes and plans were shot down before they even got off the ground. Only his regard for his precious vehicle prevented him from kicking the truck’s sides in anger, but when he climbed in, he slammed the door with far greater force than necessary. Clutching the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip, he sat and seethed in fury and frustration, his teeth grinding so hard that the muscles in his jaw jumped and twitched visibly. Steely blue eyes stared unseeingly from beneath frowning brows as Jim pondered on the previous few minutes he had spent in the Anthropology Department, replaying the conversations he had had before contemplating his next best course of action. 

Entering the building, Jim had quickly located the Department he required, and had approached the pleasant looking, middle aged secretary seated in the outer office. When he had asked after Professor Sandburg, her professional smile had grown perceptibly warmer, leading Jim to conclude that the man must be a particular favourite with her. 

“Blair? Yes, he certainly does work here, sir, but he’s not available right now. Can I take a message for him? Or a number I can call once I know his whereabouts?” 

Frowning in disappointment, Jim had been unable to keep the chill out of his tone as he pulled out one of his cards. “I’m Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit. My office and cell numbers are on the back. I’d appreciate it if you could ask him to call me as soon as he’s free.” 

There was a noticeable cooling in both her demeanour and expression as she took the card, glancing askance at it as if she expected it to bite. “Well, I’ll certainly pass this on to him, but I can assure you he’s done nothing wrong. He’s probably the most helpful and gentle person you’re ever likely to meet,” and Jim had a fanciful notion that she resembled nothing so much as a mother tiger preparing to protect her cub. 

The censure in her voice was plain, and irritated Jim even more as he bit back the rude response he was tempted to make in favour of the more politic, “He isn’t in trouble, Ma’am. I just want to consult with him on an anthropological matter.” 

Just then, the door had opened to admit a cheerfully grinning young woman with her arms full of papers. Not noticing Jim for a moment, she practically bounced up to the front desk. 

“Hi, Janice!” she began immediately. “I’ve finished printing Blair’s quiz papers for tomorrow morning. I swear that man’s going to run himself into the ground with all he takes on! And now I hear that Dean Rothschild wants him to run yet another freshman programme. Poor Blair….” Her voice tailed off as she became aware of Jim, and her eyes twinkled in good humour as she smiled up at him, obviously appreciating the handsome face and buff build. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t see you there. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” 

“Detective Ellison’s just leaving,” Janice butted in tartly. “He wanted to see Blair, but I’ve told him that Blair’s out for the rest of the afternoon. He _says_ he needs to consult with the professor on some academic matter.” 

Angered by the woman’s impertinence in answering on his behalf, Jim added firmly, “As I just told your colleague, miss, he’s in no trouble. So if you have any idea of his whereabouts, I’d be grateful,” and he treated her to one of his best smiles. The one guaranteed to win over most people on which it was bestowed. Except perhaps Janice, who clearly wasn’t backing down one iota. 

Her young face clearing again and plainly not registering the older woman’s displeasure, the girl answered happily, “Oh, right! Well, my name’s Becca, and I’m Blair’s student helper. Blair’s out at Willoughby Park. You know, the Rainbow Market? He’s helping out with the student craft stall and information desk. He’ll probably be there most of the day. He was one of the first students from Rainier to get involved, you know. Right at the beginning,” and she beamed at Jim with honest pride. 

Forcibly keeping the dismay from his face, Jim offered her a strained smile as he replied, “Thank you, Becca. I’ll go on down there and see if I can spot him. 

“Ladies,” he murmured politely as he took his leave of them, to stride purposefully back down the corridor the way he came in. To an impartial observer he would have appeared as cool, calm and collected, but internally he was raging, his hurt out of all proportion to the setback simply because he had allowed his hopeful anticipation free rein for once; always a mistake as his inner cynic gleefully reminded him, sniggering wickedly. _Never leave yourself open to disappointment. Always assume they’ll let you down every time. Trust’s a fool’s game._

Dragging his thoughts back to the present, Jim knew that he had no choice but to go to Willoughby Park to seek out the elusive Sandburg, so turning on the ignition, he quickly left the parking lot and headed off downtown before he could reconsider.  


\---------------------------------------  


The Rainbow Market was now an established affair which had grown dramatically over the past few years from humble beginnings. Taking advantage of the gradual improvement in tolerance towards them both at grass roots level and in City Hall, Cascade’s gay community had come up with the idea of holding a craft and produce fair. It was run along the lines of a normal food festival and farmer’s market, but with most of the stalls being run by openly gay business people, artists and local entrepreneurs. It was never intended to be an ‘in-your-face’ exhibition like a Gay Pride parade, but rather a low-key and moderate means of demonstrating to the general public that those who preferred alternative lifestyles were no different to their het brothers and sisters in every way that mattered. 

Supported from the outset by a large and enthusiastic contingent from Rainier U, it proved to be a resounding local success, and since then had grown year on year until it had become a major attraction. Nowadays it drew substantial crowds including many people from out of town who came to enjoy the ethnic crafts and artwork and locally grown produce; sampling various home-made products and preparations from the many food stalls and being entertained by buskers and street artists. 

And therein lay Jim’s problem. 

As he drove downtown, searching for a vacant parking slot within at least walking distance of the bustling park, Jim just knew his senses were going to suffer big-time from the smells, the noise and the crowds, and he cursed the unknown Sandburg roundly for being involved in the mayhem, even if the reasonable and intelligent man within approved of the motivation behind the affair. 

It had to be said that not everything was perfect, as the fair also drew the attention of small but vociferous groups of White Supremacists and religious fanatics who gathered to spout their vitriol and homophobic bigotry at passers-by, but generally speaking they were kept on the side-lines by the police presence, and were ignored by the majority of visitors. After all, the event had proved to be an efficient money-spinner, and was good for PR, so the Mayor and his cronies at City Hall were happy to have the PD allocate extra manpower as necessary to protect the Golden Goose. 

Unfortunately, no one had factored in an increasingly disgruntled element within the ranks of those extra uniformed cops, who resented having to waste their time – in their opinion – coddling a bunch of upstart faggots who deserved to be taken down a peg or two. In previous years, there had been too few willing to act on their malicious beliefs, but this year a particularly belligerent barrack-room lawyer by the name of Sgt Bernie Muldoon had been spreading dissent amongst his fellow cops for some months such that there were enough now to form the nucleus of a group within a group. A small but growing ‘fraternity’ who believed that they were justified in letting a few queers get their comeuppance. 

It was the existence of this group, and the consequences of their misguided actions that would change the lives of Jim and his unwitting quarry, Blair Sandburg forever.  


\----------------------------------------  


**Willoughby Park, a short while later:**  


Having finally located a parking slot, Jim made his way towards the park, shouldering his way through crowds which increased in numbers the closer he got to the fair’s venue. As expected, his head was soon protesting vehemently against the increasing volume of chatter and background noise, and before long he was sneezing violently in response to the strong scents arising from a stall selling handmade toiletries. Staggering to a halt, he leaned against a lamppost for a few moments to get himself together, almost deciding then and there that the agony simply wasn’t worth the effort. 

He almost leapt out of his skin as a kindly elderly lady grasped his arm, wanting to know if she could assist him, and only managed to dredge up a reassuring word and smile for her with a gigantic effort of will. As she turned away, plainly less than truly convinced, he straightened up and continued on his way to the heart of the locale, teeth clenched in grim determination and cursing himself for all kinds of fool. 

And suddenly the miracle happened. The further he moved into the main section of the site, the easier his senses became. His throbbing headache faded into blissful peace, and his senses gradually settled and aligned themselves effortlessly for the first time since the condition manifested. Each sense was sharper than he could ever recall, but he seemed to be able to control them at will, which was definitely a ‘first’. And they all appeared to focus automatically on one place – or more accurately, on one person. 

As Jim homed in on the siren call, he found himself approaching the large and colourful stall run by the Rainier contingent. He noted absently that it was well patronised by a whole range of potential customers, and appeared to offer craftwork of many ethnic types and influences as well as an information booth where prospective students could discuss their options and collect hand-outs and leaflets about the facilities and courses the university offered. 

And it was the person who was manning this booth who was the centre of Jim’s somewhat bemused attention. 

Although he felt suddenly compelled to do nothing more than rush up to the man and thoroughly indulge himself in looking, sniffing and touching his fill, Jim battled the disconcerting instinct, alarmed at the unexpected impulse and forcing himself to hold off from approaching any closer until he had himself under some sort of control. The rational part of his mind that was still functioning warned against the dire consequences of a scenario wherein a crazy cop pounced upon an unsuspecting civilian and started sniffing and pawing at him like some sort of feral beast. It didn’t bear thinking of, and he drew in a shaky breath as he fought against what he would eventually learn was his inner Sentinel coming to the fore, bound and determined to imprint his chosen companion. 

However, he had no intention of leaving the vicinity until he had decided upon a more acceptable plan of action, so roamed around pretending interest in the surrounding stalls, all the while monitoring the compelling stranger and determined to learn as much about him as he could. 

And over the next few minutes that turned out to be a gratifying amount. 

Feeling uncomfortably like some sort of stalker, Jim covertly watched the other man, his senses revelling in his quarry’s proximity as he greedily studied the smaller figure from top to toe. 

The young man appeared to be in his early twenties, shorter by several inches than Jim’s six foot plus, but in perfect proportion with surprisingly wide shoulders, narrow hips and waist and shapely legs. Capable, expressive hands and slender wrists and forearms protruded from the rolled-up sleeves of his white, open necked shirt, which waved and gestured excitedly in counterpoint to his enthusiastic comments. His russet, shoulder length curls bounced and flew as he moved, and Jim was shocked at his sudden desire to run his fingers through the shining locks, longing to feel the silkiness he was certain awaited his touch. The abundant hair framed a glowing and animated face, and what a face. Not conventionally handsome, it was beautiful in a purely masculine way, dominated by a pair of huge, sparkling blue eyes beneath a wide, smooth brow. Well-defined cheekbones, a firm chin and neat nose were complemented by one of the lushest, most kissable mouths that Jim had ever seen in either man or woman, and his eyes were drawn to the flashes of even, white teeth as the younger man continued to talk. 

Over the white shirt, he wore a brightly coloured vest, presumably of ethnic origin, clean but faded blue jeans and well-worn sneakers. The shirt’s open neck revealed a glimpse of softly curling chest hair, and a couple of leather and bead necklaces, and Jim was charmed to see that the shapely lobe of the left ear was pierced and adorned with two gold hoops that glinted every so often when catching the rays of the day’s rare Cascade sunshine. 

The young man’s voice was smooth and compelling like dark, rich chocolate, and Jim knew he could listen to the soothing tones for ever. 

And the very best thing was that, while listening in unashamedly to the young man’s almost continuous chatter, Jim learned that this pocket Adonis was actually the man he sought. None other than the Blair Sandburg of the ‘Tribal Sentinel’ Master’s thesis. 

Jim couldn’t believe his luck. Even if ultimately the other man couldn’t help him, it gave Jim the perfect reason to confront him, and with that thought uppermost in his mind, he prepared to move in as soon as there was a lull in the seemingly unending line of people wanting to attract Sandburg’s attention. 

Curbing his impatience with no little difficulty as Sandburg turned to chat amicably with a very pretty but heavily pregnant young woman, Jim was about to approach when all hell broke loose. 

Suddenly, from the edges of the main event where the uniformed cops had been making a half-hearted effort to keep them contained, a small but determined phalanx of religious fanatics and skinheads burst through into the crowded centre. Spearheaded by an older man with wild, greying hair and the flashing eyes of a true fundamentalist, they pushed and shoved at innocent onlookers and shoppers, overturning stalls and spouting vile epithets as their ringleader spurred them on with out-of-context biblical quotes and puritanical dogma designed to whip up bigotry and violence. 

As Jim looked on with growing disgust and fury, he realised that the uniforms seemed to be doing precious little to break up the spreading fracas, so he began to push his way forwards through the now panicking stampede of civilians, bent on joining in the fray and forcing his reluctant brothers in blue to take some more appropriate action. 

Still hampered by the pressure of the fleeing crowd, Jim watched in horror as two thugs broke away to confront the young pregnant woman who was plainly terrified. As one raised his hand as if to strike her, Sandburg stepped in front of her, deflecting the blow and plainly attempting to reason with the attackers while distracting them from pursuing their wicked intent. Although the young woman was able to slip away from the immediate vicinity, Sandburg’s peace-making efforts were ultimately in vain as the second thug grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides and leaving him open to his partner’s not so tender mercies. 

Jim roared in impotent rage as several blows struck the young man’s undefended face and body, but Sandburg was made of far sterner stuff than an objective observer might have expected as he lashed out with his feet, catching his attacker in stomach and groin with enough force to make him howl in pain and back off, clutching his bruised genitals with both hands. 

Jim had almost reached the scene, and was seconds away from riding to Sandburg’s rescue when his plan was foiled by two almost simultaneous occurrences. Firstly, he noted that the cops were finally moving in to break up the scuffle and contain the rampaging protestors, and then was literally stopped in his tracks when the screech of a nearby alarm ripped through his skull. With his senses wide open and focussed on Sandburg, he had no chance of controlling them, and dropped like a stone, the agony in his head cut off abruptly as he zoned hard. 

Had Jim been awake and aware, he would have seen the cops round up and bundle the protestors that hadn’t scattered amongst the crowd into prison vans to take downtown for booking. And with them was the unfortunate Sandburg, caught up in the confusion of the moment and unable to make himself either known or heard by his captors for more than one reason, and none of them good or acceptable.  


\-----------------------------------------  


Some while later, Jim was finally brought out of his fugue state by the sensation that someone was using his face as a punching bag, and screaming like a banshee directly into his ears. Moaning in agony, he curled up into an even smaller ball until after long moments he was able to subdue his abused senses enough to realise that in fact his cheek was merely being tapped and stroked by a gentle feminine hand, and the anxious but insistent words coming from his would-be saviour’s mouth were teary, tremulous and relatively soft. 

“Mister. Mister? You OK, Mister? Please, wake up! Do you need an ambulance? Please wake up!” 

Reluctantly peeling open one eye, Jim forced his blurry vision to focus, and dimly recognised the worried and tear-streaked face of the young pregnant woman from earlier. 

“Wha’ happn’d…?” he croaked out, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. “How long’ve I been here?” 

As he made to sit up, she helped him with a careful arm around his shoulders, her relief at his apparent recovery palpable even if overall she didn’t actually look any less upset. 

“I…I don’t really know,” she began. “I mean, it’s been about an hour or so since the cops cleared the area, so I suppose you must have been here since then. When we came back to try and clear up, I found you here. You’re behind my stall, see, so we didn’t see you at first. 

“And I was so worried about Blair. I’ve only just started to clean up the mess…” and she gazed around her distractedly, plainly almost overwhelmed. 

Frowning at her words, Jim looked around him, noting the broken and scattered goods and upturned stalls in the immediate vicinity, where grim-faced but resolute vendors and students moved around trying to salvage what they could. 

“I saw you, didn’t I?” he began. “You were talking to that teacher, Sandburg. Is he OK? Did you see what happened to him?” and he was even more disconcerted when her tears fell faster. 

“Oh, poor Blair! The cops took him! They rounded him up with those phobic bastards even though he didn’t do anything! He was only trying to protect me! But they wouldn’t listen. Just bundled him into a van with the others! I was going to get some others together to see if we could trace him and get him released, but then I found you. But if you’re really OK, I’ll get going. I’ve wasted too much time already. Blair’s a lovely man. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and those bastard pigs need to be told!” 

Feeling his own anger and concern growing as she spoke, Jim pushed himself carefully to his feet, his resolve hardening as he looked down into her pretty but devastated face. 

“Leave it with me Ms?” 

“Burgstrom. Ella Burgstrom,” she supplied. 

“OK, Ella. Leave it with me. I’m a cop, see,” and he pulled out his wallet to show her his gold shield. “Detective Jim Ellison. I saw what happened, because I was coming to see Sandburg about something else. Something related to anthropology; nothing criminal, I assure you,” he added hastily as her face darkened with suspicion. “I’ll find out where he was taken, and I’ll get him released, I promise.” 

She gazed at him for a long moment, plainly trying to determine his sincerity. Then she nodded decisively. “OK, Detective Ellison. And thanks. But please hurry. And when you get him out, please can you let me know so I can spread the word? There’re a lot of people worried about him,” and she fished around in the pocket of her smock, pulling out a small business card which she pressed into his hand. 

“Will do, Ms Burgstrom. Ella. Take care of yourself, and I’ll let you know the moment I’ve got something to report.” 

Taking his leave, he strode purposefully back to where he’d parked the truck, his aggravation enough to distract him from the residual discomfort caused by his fugue-like episode. In fact, it served to stoke his seething anger and consternation as he pondered on what he had witnessed. There was no way Sandburg should have been arrested, and having also witnessed the studiedly lackadaisical attitude of the uniformed cops, he was uncomfortably aware that there might well be an unsavoury motive behind their behaviour even if he was loath to confront his dark suspicions. 

As he walked, he fished out his cell phone and dialled Simon, knowing he’d need some backup if he was to get his way. 

“Simon? Look, I need your help, Captain. I’m downtown, just coming away from Willoughby Park. Yes, that’s right. The Rainbow Market. Have you heard about what happened?” 

“Jim. Yeah. I heard that good ol’ Reverend Wallace was stirring up trouble, and some of his yahoos actually broke into the market.” 

“Yeah, they sure did, Simon. And it was Wallace. I recognised him from the demonstrations he’s always organising to lobby City Hall. Bastard was there, spouting off his radical shit and inciting his moronic ‘disciples’ to violence. 

“Anyway, what I need to know is where the prisoners would be taken. Which precinct? It’s important, Captain.” 

“Why is that, Jim? I mean, it’s nothing to do with MCU or even Central PD at this stage. I agree it’s bad news, and the market organisers – and the public – didn’t deserve that crap. But why do you need to know?” 

Jim sighed in exasperation as he reached his truck, unlocking the door and climbing in as he continued to explain the situation to Banks, hoping the man would understand where he was coming from. 

“Look, sir. You know I was trying to contact that Sandburg guy? Well, he was at the market, manning one of the stalls there. When those thugs burst through, he tried to defend a pregnant woman, and got beaten and arrested for his trouble. I saw it go down, Simon. He didn’t do anything wrong, but those dumbshit cops took him downtown. I need to find him, sir.” 

“What aren’t you telling me, Jim? If you saw this, why didn’t you stop it? Knowing you, I’d expect you to jump right in and damn the consequences.” 

Flushing in shame, Jim paused a moment before admitting, “Yeah, well, I was all set to do just that, Simon. But I had one of those fugue things, and didn’t wake up until it was all over. 

“Thing is sir – and I know you’ll find this hard to swallow – but when I saw Sandburg I just knew he could help me. Don’t ask me how, since I didn’t even get to speak to him. It’s just – I don’t know – my senses seemed to settle as soon as I got near him. And I think that fugue thing only happened because I was concentrating so hard on him, that I left myself open to external stimuli. The last thing I remember before my little trip to la-la land was the sound of an alarm going off. Nearly took the top of my head off.” 

There was a long silence at the other end, and Jim could picture the look of disbelief and irritation that would undoubtedly be clouding his boss’ face. Finally, however, Simon spoke, and came up with the information Jim wanted, even if the scepticism in his tone was even more marked than usual. 

“Shit, Jim. Why do you always have to make things so hard for yourself? And for me too, for that matter. You’re right. It is hard to swallow; almost impossible, in fact. But even if this Sandburg guy isn’t what you say he is, it sounds as if he shouldn’t have been caught up with Wallace’s followers. 

“They’ll have been taken to the Precinct House at 14th and Park View. I’ll call the lockup myself and tell them to expect you. 

“And when you spring this guy, I want you to bring him here, OK? I’m sure there’s more to this whole business than meets the eye, and I don’t like it.” 

“Thanks, sir. I appreciate it. I’m on my way,” and Jim terminated the call and set off for the Precinct House, jaw jumping with tension, and a look of steely determination on his chiselled features which boded ill for anyone, cop or otherwise, who might harbour any intention of getting between him and his objective.  


\------------------------------  


Less than an hour later, Jim was at the desk in the 14th Precinct’s lockup, leaning threateningly over the openly intimidated Sergeant in charge. Just before Ellison’s arrival, Sgt Kowalski had received a decidedly upsetting call from the Duty Sergeant at the front desk, who had himself just had his ear chewed by none other than Captain Banks of Central PD’s Major Crimes Unit. 

Apparently, some friend of Detective Ellison’s had been wrongfully arrested during the Rainbow Market fracas, and now the terrifyingly tenacious and very menacing macho cop was in his face, demanding to know how such a thing could have happened in the first place, and why it hadn’t been remedied sooner. And to make it worse, he claimed to have witnessed the whole incident, so wasn’t about to be fobbed off with any excuses Kowalski could come up with. 

“Um, yeah. There was a Blair Sandburg brought in with the other rioters,” he admittedly reluctantly. “I just assumed he was one of them, so I had ‘em all thrown in lockup together until they cooled off a bit. They were acting up and so on, so I left them to it. No need to put our guys in harm’s way, huh?” and he grinned nervously, trying to elicit a more amenable and sympathetic response from Ellison. It wasn’t happening, though, so he forged ahead. 

“Um, having said that, they were picking on the one guy – Sandburg. I mean, I did notice that he didn’t really look like one of them with all that hair and pretty-boy looks, so after a while I put him in a separate cell. Er, is it true that he’s a university professor after all? I mean, I had no idea, and Bernie - Sgt Muldoon – didn’t tell me any different…” 

His whining tone faltered and tailed off altogether when Ellison growled deep in his throat, for all the world like a huge, feral cat. 

“Yes, _Sergeant Kowalski,_ it is,” he hissed, leaning down until he was almost in the guy’s face. “He was trying to defend a young woman - a young _pregnant_ woman - from those thugs while your precious comrades stood around and twiddled their thumbs. And when he was attacked and beaten for his trouble, those same _comrades_ arrested him and threw him in a van with Wallace’s murdering, homophobic _scum!_ And then _you_ put him in a cell with them! What were you thinking? Or were you thinking at all?” 

Backing away quickly, hands held up in a futile warding gesture, Kowalski resorted to bluster. 

“Now see here, Ellison. Whatever your Captain Banks says, this isn’t your precinct, and you have no right to come in here and threaten me. It was an honest mistake, but what’s done is done, so why don’t you come get your ‘friend’ and get out of here!” 

“Oh, I shall, my friend. But rest assured you haven’t heard the last of this. There’s something rotten in this precinct, and I intend to find out what it is!” 

As Jim followed Kowalski down to the holding cells, he noticed that once again his senses had levelled out, and the headache had faded away to nothing. He was growing more and more convinced that it had to have something to do with Sandburg, even though he was well aware of how incredible that seemed. But he wasn’t going to question the phenomenon just yet, simply enjoy the brief period of peace while he could even as the opening notes from ‘The Twilight Zone’ began to play in his head. 

However, as soon as they reached Sandburg’s cell, Jim’s hostility ratcheted up once again as he caught his first glimpse of the despondent figure huddled in the corner. The young man had pulled his knees up to his chin, and had his hands wrapped around his shins. His forehead rested on his knees, the long, now unkempt curtain of his hair hiding his face. Even without the benefit of enhanced senses, Jim could easily make out the scrapes and bruises on his wrists and forearms, and drying blood matted Sandburg’s hair around the area of his left temple. And once Jim scanned the smaller man properly, he smelled the sour taint of what he could only categorise as stress and fear, and the coppery tang of blood seemed to coat the back of his throat. Added to that was the sound of shallow, hitching breaths which suggested to Jim that Sandburg had sustained cracked, or maybe even broken ribs. 

Turning to glare at Kowalski, he spat out furiously, “Why the _fuck_ hasn’t this man been given medical treatment? Any fool can see that he’s had the shit kicked out of him! Exactly what sort of hell hole are you guys running here? ‘Protect and Serve’? I think not!” 

All pretence of bluff and bluster gone, Kowalski merely shook his head, and reached with slightly trembling hands to open the cell door. Throwing it wide, he stepped back quickly, muttering, “Go ahead. Take him…” before almost running back towards the relative safety of his desk. Ellison was one scary dude, and the sooner he left the precinct, the better, and that little hippie freak with him.  


\--------------------------------  


**Earlier that morning, Blair’s office, Hargrove Hall:**  


“Come in!” Blair’s cheery voice responded to the light tap on the door, which opened at his invitation to admit Becca, Blair’s student helper. 

“Hey, Blair. I found that article you wanted for this morning’s Anthro 101 lecture. Dave Wilson had ‘borrowed’ it and had to be persuaded to give it back!” 

“Becca, you are a star! What would I do without you?” Blair beamed at the pretty young woman, who blushed and smirked a little, basking in her favourite teacher’s approval. 

“De nada, Teach,” she replied. “Are you going straight down to Willoughby Park after the lecture? Most of the others set out earlier this morning, so the craft stall should be pretty much up and running by the time you get there. I’ve put the boxes of leaflets and hand-outs ready for you behind Janice’s desk, so you can grab them on your way out.” 

“That’s great, Becca. Yep, I’ll leave as soon as I can after 9.30 am. That’ll give me time to get down to the park and start strutting my stuff as folks begin to arrive in reasonable numbers. You never know, we might get a few new recruits to the Anthro department by the end of the day.” 

“Well, if anyone can lure prospective students to check out our favourite subject, you can, Teach. I swear, you can make the grimmest aspects sound entertaining. We hang on your every word!” 

This time it was Blair’s turn to look bashful. “Awww, you say the nicest things!” he laughed. “But we both know that even I can’t inspire all the freshmen, Becca. There’ll always be the percentage who only takes Anthro because they think it’s an easy way to get credits.” 

“Then more fool them!” Becca snapped tartly. “They don’t know what they’re missing! But anyhow, Blair, I’ll see you tomorrow with the quiz papers you need. Have a great day at the Rainbow!” 

“Thanks, Becca. You have a good one too,” and Blair grinned at her departing back, thanking the goddess yet again for the gift of his attractive and able assistant. It simply never occurred to him that she thought the same about him, and was truly grateful for the opportunity of helping her favourite teacher. Or that she felt honoured to have been chosen for the position above more eager volunteers than Blair could ever have imagined.  


\-------------------------  


A couple of hours later saw Blair loading boxes of leaflets into the back of his beloved classic Volvo, having finally managed to extricate himself from the inevitable group of enthusiastic and inquisitive students who ambushed him after his lecture was officially done. Not that Blair minded. He loved his subject, and was only too happy to encourage his students in whatever way he could. It was just that, this morning, he would have preferred to have been able to get away promptly, knowing that time manning the information kiosk at the market was time equally well spent. 

Grinning to himself as he started the car, which for once was behaving perfectly, he set off downtown, happily anticipating an interesting and productive day, if the previous years were anything to go by. He had been involved with the event from the outset, and as he drove, he recalled those early days, and thought about how things had developed since then, both at the Market, and in his life. 

The only child of an evergreen hippie single mom, Blair had led an unconventional, peripatetic lifestyle, following in his Mom, Naomi’s footsteps as she travelled the world in search of love and spiritual enlightenment. The child Blair had absorbed and embraced many diverse cultures and countries, which had no doubt sparked his love for anthropology in later life. It was an exciting existence, offering a range of experience very few of his peers would ever know, but it was not without its down-side, as Blair was ruefully aware. Perpetually on the move, Blair learned quickly not to grow attached to either material possessions or people, as he would inevitably have to leave them behind when Naomi decided it was time to move on. Having said that, on several occasions she had chosen to leave her son behind when she visited retreats or communes where children weren’t welcome, instilling in the boy a deep sense of insecurity. Although he loved his mom dearly, he was never truly certain that she’d come back for him, and, since some of the people burdened with his unexpected presence frequently didn’t appreciate the imposition, Blair also learned to keep himself to himself, sharing only as much of himself that he thought others could tolerate. He had witnessed first-hand the string of distressed would-be suitors Naomi left in her wake after ‘detaching with love’, so made sure that he protected his heart so that he couldn’t hurt or be hurt in the same way. 

The one thing that remained a constant throughout his early years was the love of learning, and although opportunities for formal education were relatively few and far between, Blair’s innate inquisitiveness and his formidable intellect ensured that he was always far in advance of his peers when he did attend school, which in itself posed more problems. Usually placed in classes a couple of grades higher than he should be, he was inevitably the smallest, youngest and brightest. Add to that his and his mom’s unorthodox appearance and hippie lifestyle plus the fact that he was Jewish and a bastard to boot and he had several strikes against him from the outset. His classmates reacted accordingly, frequently taking their cue from their own parents, who viewed Naomi’s ethereal beauty and laid-back attitude with unease and even jealousy, and Blair was often bullied and mocked as the freaky little outsider who continually showed them up in class. 

Yet he never lost his inner optimism and enthusiasm for life; happy to share his knowledge and his practical help whenever it was needed even though he was careful not to outstay his welcome. _Learn to read the signs, and leave before you’re thrown out_ was his motto, and more often than not he got it right. 

It was at the age of fifteen when his life took a different turn, by his own choice. Finally deciding it was time to put down roots, Blair persuaded Naomi to let him test for early entry to Cascade’s Rainier University. Although part of his reason for doing so was because he was tired of the constant travelling, it was also because he had decided that he wanted to major in Anthropology, and Rainier boasted the presence of Dr Eli Stoddard; Blair’s hero and one of the best known anthropologists in the US, if not the world. 

Acing the entrance exams despite his lack of formal qualifications, Blair so impressed at his interviews that he was offered a place to his great delight. Accepting the inevitable, Naomi ‘detached with love’, and went her way, unencumbered once again and leaving her son to begin his studies at barely sixteen years of age. 

However, yet again Blair’s joy was soon diminished as he was generally shunned by his fellow students, who had little time for the exuberant child genius who outshone them. His teachers mostly adored him, delighting in his eagerness and ability to absorb information, plus the quality and quantity of his work, but Blair himself gradually grew more and more disillusioned and lonely until he reached the point where he was about to call Naomi and ask her to come for him. 

It was then that two unrelated changes occurred, which turned his life around yet again. 

Firstly, Blair came to the attention of the great Eli Stoddard himself. The man was so charmed by Blair’s adulation, enthusiasm and precocious talent that he took the boy under his wing, mentoring him and treating him like the son he’d never had. Responding to his encouragement, Blair blossomed to such an extent that by age nineteen he had his bachelor’s degree under his belt, and by twenty one, he had earned his Master’s degree. And now here he was; a popular and hard-working Teaching Fellow who was ABD – All But Dissertation – in the doctoral programme. Not too shabby an achievement by all accounts for Naomi’s little boy. 

The second change involved the proposed Rainbow Market, which was to benefit Blair initially on the social scene rather than the academic. 

On his way back from a tutorial with Eli, Blair had spotted a poster on the Anthro Department’s notice board. The poster advertised a meeting for any students interested in getting involved with a new enterprise which was the brain-child of the local gay community. Unconcerned with ‘alternative lifestyle’ aspects, having been brought up in a very open-minded environment, Blair was instantly captivated by the proposed multicultural craft and produce stalls, and decided to attend just to see if he could help in any way. 

And he found that he was welcomed with open arms, discovering that within this particular group of laid-back, tolerant students and local entrepreneurs that he wasn’t such a misfit after all. It was just the sort of eclectic, loose-knit community with which he and Naomi had been accustomed to associate during their travels, and he realised with a burst of self-enlightenment that this was as much a part of him as his yearning for a more formal academic life. And now he could enjoy the best of both worlds. What could be better? Because he was also ruefully aware that he was never going to be mainstream in any shape or form, so it was better to just go with the flow and stop trying to make himself into something he wasn’t cut out to be. 

From the very first small event, the idea took off beyond expectations until it became what it was today – a popular attraction enjoyed by many. And Blair had been involved ever since, much valued as one of the founder members of Rainier’s informal ‘Friends of the Rainbow Market’ society, fondly known as ‘the Marketeers’. 

And now here he was driving to his seventh Market – having missed last year’s due to being away on an expedition – and his grin widened in happy anticipation. He could tell by the way all the available parking spaces in the vicinity of Willoughby Park were filling up that the turnout should be as good, if not better, than previous years, and was greatly relieved that he didn’t have to rely on luck as his friend Ella had reserved him a spot in the tiny lot behind her small craft shop nearby. He knew that she would have her own stall set up close to the Rainier one, and looked forward to catching up with his ex-student, of whom he was very fond. 

Having parked up, and with arms laden with boxes of pamphlets, Blair approached the central parade of stalls, calling out and returning cheerful greetings on his way, and warmed by the goodwill he felt directed towards him by his many friends and acquaintances.  


\------------------------------  


Several hours later, Blair was still bouncing like the Energiser Bunny, his energy fuelled by his contagious enthusiasm as he offered advice and encouragement to the seemingly never-ending stream of interested parties and potential students passing his booth. He also managed to catch up with many of his friends, pleased to hear of their successes over the past year, especially since he had missed them at the previous event. He was particularly thrilled to witness Ella’s advanced pregnancy, knowing that she and her partner, Maddie, had wanted a child for a while now, only needing to locate an appropriate sperm donor to make the much-desired miracle come true. 

And Blair was that donor, having willingly agreed to their shy request, honoured beyond belief that they should consider him a suitable candidate. 

Hugging his ex-student with careful but genuine pleasure, Blair felt that his day couldn’t get any better as Ella regaled him with dryly witty accounts of her pregnancy thus far. 

The only blight on the day was the increasingly vociferous demonstration outside the main area, which was growing more difficult to ignore as the event progressed. Blair found it upsetting that the protestors seemed to be more aggressive than in previous years, but trusted that the police presence would be up to the task of keeping them at bay. He wasn’t naïve, and was well aware of the existence of all types of intolerance, having been on the receiving end only too often, but he still tried to see the best in people anyway, his innate optimism and generous heart allowing for no other response. 

It was while he was catching up with Ella that the unthinkable happened, and a group of angry protestors suddenly broke through the ineffectual police cordon and surged into the park, heading directly for the central area where the majority of stalls, including Rainier’s and Ella’s were situated. Within seconds the scene was one of chaos as the screaming thugs spilled into the space, sweeping goods off some stalls and overturning others while vendors and customers alike scattered, trying to escape the violence. Horror-struck and momentarily rooted to the spot in shock, Blair watched as two muscular and tattooed skinhead types barrelled towards them, hurling vile abuse at Ella in particular as the young woman cowered in fright. As one of them raised a meaty fist to strike his friend, Blair sprang into action, throwing his arm up to deflect the blow and shielding Ella while he tried to distract them with words of reason. 

“Hey, man, there’s no need for that, OK? Let the lady go. She’s no threat to you, man.” Peripherally aware that Ella had taken the opportunity to slip away, he kept talking. He knew that he had little hope of actually getting through to them, just wanting to keep them at bay long enough for the cops to do their job and get them under control. 

However, as his fears for his own safety grew, he was also aware that the cops appeared to be doing no such thing, and even as he watched in stunned disbelief, he was grabbed from behind by one of the thugs while the other proceeded to hit him indiscriminately around the face and torso. 

Hurt and angry, Blair had no intention of giving in without a fight, so pulling up both legs, he lashed out and caught his attacker in the belly and groin, grimly satisfied when the man curled up around the pain and fell to the ground. Off balance, his partner let go of Blair, but Blair had no chance to escape as at that moment the cops suddenly decided to spring into action, and Blair felt himself grabbed, spun around and pinned to the side of his booth while cuffs were slapped on his wrists. 

“Hey, man! What are you doing? I’m not one of them, guys. Come on! I’m a teacher at Rainier. I was only defending myself…” but his words were ignored as he was roughly dragged across the litter-strewn park and thrust into a van, along with his attackers and several other protestors who had failed to escape with the fleeing crowds. 

Helpless and huddled in a corner surrounded by hostile racists and ‘phobes, Blair knew he was in big trouble unless he could convince the cops of his innocence, but if the general attitude was similar to what he had already witnessed, his hope of doing just that was fading rapidly and his immediate future looked bleak indeed.  


\------------------------------  


On arrival at the precinct house, the protestors were obviously determined to create as much of a disturbance as possible, and yelled, struggled and fought with the cops as they were herded from van to lockup. Despite the fact that Blair wasn’t either dressed or behaving in a similar manner, he continued to be ignored and to his horror was thrown into the same holding cell to ‘cool off’ with the others. 

And probably the worst aspect was that, despite his rising anxiety, he was sickeningly aware of the knowing glances and sniggering asides from several of the arresting officers as he desperately sought their attention. Even as he was surrounded by hostile and aggressive fellow prisoners, cruel laughter rang in his ears accompanied by sneering comments about ‘teaching the little faggot a lesson’, before the blows began to rain down on him and he concentrated everything he had on trying to save his own life. 

Although it was actually only minutes before the sergeant in charge hauled him out and threw him into a separate cell, Blair was in a bad way, beaten unmercifully and in more pain than he’d ever experienced before in his young life. But the pain wasn’t all physical. He was revolted by what he had witnessed today; disillusioned and saddened to find that Naomi and her friends had been right all along. The pigs weren’t to be trusted after all, and he had witnessed first-hand the ‘jack-booted fascists’ at work. Whatever happened from hereon in, whether he got out of this mess without further damage and distress or not, he would never view the police in the same way ever again.  


\--------------------------------  


Huddled in the corner of the holding cell, trying not to give in to the nausea and dizziness that threatened to engulf him, Blair had no idea how long he had been left alone before he became vaguely aware that there was some sort of dispute going on over by the sergeant in charge’s desk. However, he was feeling too ill to pay it any attention, assuming it was nothing to do with him. All he wanted was to curl up on his own bed and try to pretend that today had never happened. 

_Some hope of that!_ a cynical little inner voice chided him. _You never took Naomi’s opinions about the pigs seriously. Thought you knew better, didn’t you, you arrogant little shit! Well, now you know. And a lot of good the realisation will do you. Just how long do you think it’ll take before someone notices you’re missing and decides to get you out of here? And if they don’t, just how long do you think you’ll last if you end up with those bigots again? They want you dead, and you know it._

Lowering his battered face to his knees, he desperately tried to dredge up some tattered remnants of his beleaguered customary optimism only to fail miserably, his physical pain too overwhelming to allow him to seek the comfort of the calm centre within him. He didn’t even raise his head when he heard the cell door open, just pulled himself into a tighter ball, praying to be left alone until help arrived as the goddess saw fit.  


\-------------------------------  


**Jim:**  


Dismissing Kowalski from his thoughts as he entered the holding cell, Jim approached the small figure in the corner, hunkering down just out of arm’s reach so he could study Sandburg more closely. His now cooperative hearing picked up the young man’s racing heartbeat, and despite his stubborn attempt at ignoring his visitor, Sandburg’s shallow breaths became increasingly more rapid and strained as if he was fighting off a panic attack. Tremors shook the huddled figure, and Jim could feel the heat from bruised and damaged tissue even from where he knelt. Beneath the now bloodied multi-coloured vest, Blair’s shirt had almost been ripped from his back, and hung in tatters around his slender frame revealing the many abrasions covering his arms and torso. To make matters worse, as Jim’s sight zeroed in on the partly obscured left side of the young man’s neck he growled deep in his throat at the ragged and bleeding tear in Sandburg’s earlobe where someone had tried to rip out his earrings. 

All Jim wanted to do was hold and comfort the smaller man, and get him out of this hell-hole as soon as possible, but he knew that he was going to have to exercise far more patience than he was accustomed to use. Sandburg had been hurt and frightened by those who were supposed to protect him as much as by the racist phobic bastards who knew no better, and trust was something that was going to be very hard to re-establish. 

Clearing his throat, he addressed the other man, keeping his voice calm and unthreatening. 

“Mr Sandburg. Chief? Can you look at me, please? I need to see how badly you’re hurt, Chief. Look, my name’s Ellison. Detective Jim Ellison, Central PD Major Crimes Unit. Here’s my badge, see?” and he held out his wallet enticingly. 

“I’m here to get you out, Mr Sandburg. I promise. And to get you medical assistance. Can you look at me, Chief?” The gentle nickname seemed to fall naturally from his lips, and he gave it no mind. 

After a long moment, Sandburg sighed deeply, then raised his head slowly and tentatively, clearly allowing for the possibility of further blows and ready to cover up again. Wary and wounded blue eyes regarded Jim from behind the ragged curtain of lank curls, and Jim drew in a sharp breath as he catalogued the damage as it was revealed on the pale face. 

A ragged laceration near the hairline above Sandburg’s left temple had bled profusely, and matted the long locks on that side of his head. It probably required stitches, and still oozed, a fresh trickle running slowly down the side of the young man’s face as he followed Jim’s concerned gaze travelling over him. There was another gash in his left eyebrow, and that eye was blackened and swelling above a bruised and grazed cheekbone. His nose was bloodied and his lower lip was split, and again it was the left side of his cheek and jaw that was noticeably swollen and bore the marks of more than one set of knuckles. In comparison, the right side of his face was relatively unmarked, but Jim knew that Sandburg needed a scan to ascertain just how much damage had been done to the underlying bone structure, and also to see if he had suffered any intracranial injury. In fact, he would need more than that as Jim was certain that there were a few cracked ribs and possible internal injuries requiring treatment also. 

His gaze returning to Blair’s, he was shocked at the emotions swirling in the blue depths. Fear, for sure, and great pain, but also distrust and deep anger. Sandburg may have been beaten to a pulp, but he was far from defeated, and Jim recognised the obstinacy that tightened the damaged lips. If he’d expected the smaller man to be broken and pleading for mercy, it wasn’t happening yet, and Jim couldn’t help but approve of this proof of Sandburg’s resilience. 

“I don’t know you, man.” Blair’s words were hoarse and cracked, obviously issuing from a dry and sore throat. “What do you want with me? Why would you want to help me?” The raw suspicion in his tone and expression struck Jim hard even as he recognised that it was only to be expected. 

“It’s a long story, Chief, and not one to be discussed here. I’ll be only too glad to explain everything once you’re safely out of here, but what’s more important for now is that you trust me enough to get you the help you need. I promised your friend Ella that I’d help, and that’s what I intend to do.” 

At the mention of Ella’s name, Blair was instantly distracted, his attention and concern immediately turning to the young woman in question. “Ella! How do you know Ella, man? Is she OK? She didn’t get hurt, did she? I tried to protect her…” 

“It’s OK, Mr Sandburg. I spoke to Ella at the market after the fight. She’s fine, just worried about you. I saw what happened, Chief, and I know you shouldn’t be here. So let me get you up, and we’ll get out of here, want to?” 

Although still wary, the fact that Ellison seemed to know his friend convinced Blair that he could trust the man enough to at least spring him from the holding cell, so he was prepared to go along with him that far. Nodding slightly, he shifted a little in preparation to stand, only for a low moan to emerge unbidden from his throat. Goddess! He hurt in so many places he didn’t think he could manage it, but then a careful hand grasped his upper arm, and a powerful arm slid around his waist. With a reassuring glance, Ellison rose to his feet, bringing the smaller man with him until Sandburg stood upright, leaning heavily against Jim’s side and supported by the big man’s firm but gentle hold as he tried to breathe through the pain. 

“Attaboy, Mr Sandburg. Take your time. Do you think you’ll be able to walk out of here, or should I call the medics?” 

Opening eyes which had been squeezed shut as Blair fought the pain, the younger man glared mulishly at his unexpected rescuer. “I can walk, man. Just get me out of here. I’ll worry about treatment later.” 

Grinning at his companion’s snippy response despite the circumstances, Jim nodded agreeably. “OK, Mr Sandburg. Let’s make tracks,” and he exited the cell, moving slowly and supporting the younger man who somehow managed to keep his legs in motion, his pride and obstinacy permitting nothing less. 

As they passed his desk, Kowalski wordlessly held out a baggie containing Blair’s personal possessions, such as they were; namely a wallet, cell phone and a couple of broken leather and bead necklaces plus the bloodied earrings. He had to admit that he felt ashamed of his behaviour towards Sandburg, and had difficulty in meeting the eyes of both men. Sandburg’s expression was one of hurt, disillusionment and reproach, while Ellison’s cold stare promised retribution. However, the sergeant’s troubled conscience didn’t concern him as much as did his well-developed sense of self-preservation, and he certainly didn’t want to alienate either his colleagues or Ellison any more than he already had. He therefore simply nodded briefly as Sandburg reached for the bag, and stepped back, not wanting to further delay their departure. And as they limped slowly from his domain, he reluctantly acknowledged that he probably hadn’t seen the last of them. 

During their slow progress from the precinct house to the truck, Jim stayed silent, allowing his companion to concentrate on simply getting from A to B. He didn’t relinquish his hold, however, knowing that Sandburg needed the support whether he wanted it or not, the strained features and sweat beading Blair’s hairline and upper lip mute testament to his acute pain and flagging strength. Indeed, Jim was amazed at how well the smaller man was holding up, but that only made him even more determined to get him to the ER as soon as possible before his failing body was damaged further by his stubborn refusal to give in. 

Finally reaching the truck, Jim lifted the younger man into the passenger seat, reaching over to buckle the seatbelt even as Sandburg sagged bonelessly against the backrest, eyes closed and head tilted back as tortured breaths whistled through a nose constricted by clotted blood and bruising. He had obviously reached the end of his endurance, and spoke nary a word as Jim climbed into the driver’s seat and set off for Cascade General as quickly as he could safely manage.  


\-------------------------  


**Cascade General Hospital ER, shortly after:**  


By the time Jim pulled up outside ER, Sandburg was out for the count, and his shallow breathing and slightly blue-tinged lips filled Jim with alarm. Throwing the truck into park, he leapt out and ran around to the passenger side door, reaching in to scoop the lax body into his arms. With his badge clutched in one hand in plain view, he barrelled into the waiting area, calling out loudly for assistance. It only took one glance from the nurse at the admissions desk to convince her to call for immediate help, and within seconds a burly orderly arrived to help Jim ease his burden onto a gurney. As the nurse thrust the mandatory paperwork under Jim’s nose, the gurney was whisked away into an empty cubicle. Although Jim dearly wished to accompany Sandburg into the treatment room, he realised that he wouldn’t be allowed in, so had to content himself with trying to fill in as much of the paperwork as possible – which wasn’t much at all – and with listening in to what was going on behind the closed curtains. 

As Jim eavesdropped unashamedly from his seat in the waiting room, he heard a harassed junior doctor calling for a full set of scans once Sandburg had been cleaned up enough and his superficial wounds stitched and bandaged. Knowing from his own experience as a trained army medic that it would be a while until Sandburg was settled in a room, assuming that he would be admitted, Jim reluctantly left his seat and went outside. He intended to both move his truck from the ‘no parking’ zone where he had abandoned it, and to ring Simon to bring him up to speed. And once he had done that, he intended to stay right there in the hospital until he could see Sandburg for himself and hopefully talk to the man. He needed to convince him to come and stay with Jim at the loft, where Jim could look after him. And where that notion came from, Jim had absolutely no idea. 

Having moved his truck to the regular visitor’s parking lot, Jim pulled out his cell phone and called Simon. He was under no illusions that his captain would even begin to fully comprehend and accept Jim’s reasons for wanting to stay at the hospital, or his intentions where Sandburg was concerned. Hell, he didn’t even understand himself where his unexpectedly over-protective feelings towards the young man had come from. An honourable and upright man, it was in Jim’s nature to want to protect the innocent, hence his career choices, but he had never before felt the need to take in strays, especially virtually complete strangers. He valued his privacy above all else – just ask his ex-wife Carolyn – so why he would feel the need to keep Sandburg close, he had no idea. 

Having said that, Banks deserved to be put in the picture as regards the fiasco at the market and the local cops’ inappropriate behaviour and attitude towards those they were supposed to be protecting. Jim knew that his boss would be as disgusted as he himself was, and neither of them would be inclined to let the matter drop. The inevitable bad publicity from such incidents impacted on all of them whether deserved or not. 

“Banks!” Simon’s abrupt response was loud enough to make Jim wince and pull the phone away from his ear. 

“Hey, Simon, it’s Jim. Look, Captain, I’m at Cascade General. I had to bring Sandburg in to ER after I sprang him from the 14th’s lockup. He’s in bad shape, sir. Those stupid assholes that arrested him put him in with Wallace’s scumbag followers, and they beat the crap out of him. His face is a mess, and they’re scanning him for possible head and internal injuries. I’m going to stay here if that’s OK with you, to see if I can get to talk to him once he’s conscious.” 

“Well, shit, Jim. This just keeps getting better and better – not! Look, I’m coming over. This situation’s becoming more complicated by the minute, and I think I’d like to see for myself just how much damage has been inflicted on your Mr Sandburg. Whether or not he can help you with your ‘problem’ is beside the point. He’s still the victim of inept – possibly even dirty - police procedure, and I don’t like it. I’ve heard rumours about the 14th Precinct before, but no one’s ever come up with anything concrete – or anyone willing to come forward, be they victims or whistle-blowing fellow cops. But if I find anything approaching real evidence of bigotry within the ranks, you can bet I’m going to follow up on it. And I won’t be alone. The Mayor might be a royal pain in the ass on many topics, but he won’t want the rep of a popular local event - one of his pet projects also - tarnished by a bunch of yahoos. He’ll want to be seen to be taking a strong stance on both anti-social behaviour and possible corruption within the PD. Especially since it’s getting very close to the beginning of the election campaign. He’s got his sights set on another term of office.” 

“I hope you’re right, Captain. And you know I’ll do everything I can to help out. 

“Anyhow, I’m going back inside to see if I can learn some more about what’s happening to Sandburg. Guess I’ll see you shortly?” 

“Bet on it, Jim. I’m setting out now,” and Simon terminated the call.  


\-------------------------------  


Back inside the ER, Jim approached the nurses’ station again. 

“Excuse me, Nurse…er…Davenport,” he began, quickly checking her ID tag, “can you tell me anything about Mr Sandburg? The young man I brought in about an hour ago?” and he offered her one of his most charming smiles as he showed her his badge again. Although he was desperately impatient for news, he figured that this was the best way of getting results. 

Sure enough, the tired-looking older woman melted under his winning gaze, noticeably cheering up and primping a little as she smiled back. “Yes, I remember, Detective. Let me just check for you if he’s been admitted,” and she tapped a few keys on her work station. 

“He’s still down in X ray at the moment, but once he’s done he’ll be taken up to a ward. I can’t tell you more than that right now, but if you take the elevator to the third floor, he’ll be taken to room 307. There’s a reasonably comfortable waiting area close by you can use if you want, and it has a coffee machine, although I can’t speak for the quality of the stuff it dispenses!” 

Thanking her politely; having made her day, if he did but know it; Jim crossed to the elevators and pushed the button for the third floor, knowing that he was willing to settle in for as long as it took to see Blair Sandburg again. 

It was about half an hour later when Simon Banks joined him, seating himself alongside his subordinate with a deep sigh. “Hey, Jim, you with me man?” Suddenly aware that Ellison hadn’t even acknowledged his presence, he addressed the silent figure, whose blank expression and rigid posture suggested that the lights were on but no one was home. 

“Jim? You having one of those fugue things, man?” he growled anxiously, his alarm growing when Ellison continued to ignore him. Quickly checking out the area to make sure no one was watching, he moved to stand in front of his detective, gripping the man’s shoulders and leaning down until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Shaking the other as hard as he could, he muttered insistently, “Jim. _Jim!_ Wake up, man! What’s going on with you, man? Come on Ellison! Wake up before you get carted off to the psych ward!” 

Suddenly, Jim’s eyes snapped back into focus and he pulled back out of his boss’s grasp. Reddening in no little embarrassment, he murmured, “Sorry, sir. Um, I was listening to Sandburg, sir. They’re done with his scans, and they’re bringing him up now.” 

“You saying you can hear him all the way down in X ray, Jim? Is that what you’re saying?” 

At Jim’s reluctant nod of assent, Simon sat back down, plainly astounded by his friend’s statement. If it had been anyone else making such a ludicrous claim, he’d have busted a gut laughing, once he’d booted the guy out on his ass, that was. But this was Jim, and Simon knew his friend well enough to know that lying was last thing that he would do. Especially under such disconcerting and unbelievable circumstances. 

Leaning forward again, Simon scrubbed at his face with his big hands for a moment before answering. “So, are all your senses working as well as your hearing, then? And if so, why the blank episode?” 

Jim looked away for a moment, mustering his thoughts before replying somewhat uncertainly, “Well, yeah, Simon. Ever since I got to the market my senses seem to have settled down. I mean, yes, I’m still losing time some when I least expect it, but they haven’t been doing that cutting in and out stuff, even if I can’t claim that I know how to control them yet. It’s just that once they focussed on Sandburg, everything got better. As if he was grounding me somehow. I can’t tell you any more than that, Simon. Not until I talk to him properly. 

“If he’ll have anything to do with me after this disaster, that is,” he added morosely. “I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to speak to a cop ever again.” 

“Well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it, Jim. Personally, I think he’ll be too intrigued by your condition to ignore you if he’s any sort of academic. But we need his statement anyway if we’re to do something about that business at the 14th, so let’s just play it by ear.” 

He noticed that he’d lost Jim’s attention again, but only because the other man was focussed intently on the far bank of elevators. 

And as soon as one swished open to reveal a still figure on a gurney, Simon knew immediately that this must be Sandburg, and that Jim must have been tracking him just as he had claimed. 

And now he was hearing the opening bars of ‘The Twilight Zone’ too.  


\-----------------------------  


As an orderly wheeled the gurney to room 307, Jim immediately stepped forward to intercept the young doctor who accompanied him. Checking the woman’s ID, he began, “Dr Wu? My name is Detective Ellison, Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit. I brought Mr Sandburg in. Can you tell me how he is?” and he fixed the exhausted-looking face with an appealing gaze. 

A flash of sympathy crossed the doctor’s pretty features even as she began to shake her head, but before she could deny the request on the grounds of patient confidentiality, Simon stepped forward also to intervene. 

“Dr Wu, we both realise that you are duty bound to protect Mr Sandburg’s privacy, and we respect that. I am Captain Simon Banks, Detective Ellison’s boss, and I assure you neither of us has any desire to abuse that right. 

“But I should advise you that your patient is a material witness in a serious crime, and as such will require a police guard. I shall be assigning Detective Ellison to that duty initially as he is acquainted with Mr Sandburg, and in view of that we would both appreciate any information you feel you can give us.” 

Pursing her lips and frowning in thought as she contemplated the two big cops for a long moment, she apparently decided to go with her instinct to trust them, at least to a certain extent. Nodding briskly, she led the way back to the waiting area and took a seat, indicating that they should sit opposite. 

“OK, Captain, Detective. I’ll tell you what I can, although any details can only be revealed to Mr Sandburg’s next of kin, once we trace them. Perhaps you can help in that?” 

She wasn’t really surprised when they both shook their heads. 

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I only know Mr Sandburg through his academic reputation. I don’t know him well enough to be able to give you more personal details,” Jim replied apologetically. “You’d probably be better checking with the admin staff at Rainier’s Anthropology Department. He’s a Teaching Fellow there, and I know he’s very popular.” 

“We’ll do that, Detective. Thank you for the information. In the meantime, I can tell you that he’s been admitted for the night at least. Although the scans don’t show any obvious intracranial injury or swelling of the brain, the fact that he’s been beaten so severely and is still unconscious makes me err on the side of caution. 

“Again, although he has three cracked ribs and multiple abrasions, there’s no sign of internal injuries other than deep bruising over a large percentage of his body. In that respect, he’s been very lucky although that doesn’t mean to say that he won’t be in great deal of pain, and for some time to come.” 

“How about his face, Doctor? There was so much blood,” and Jim’s expression was one of genuine concern. He hated to think of that beautiful face permanently disfigured. 

“Again, he’s a mess, Detective, but nothing that won’t heal. I suspect I’m telling you more than I should, but although he required stitches in some of the more severe lacerations, there shouldn’t be too much scarring. His cheekbone has a hairline fracture, but his nose wasn’t broken, just badly bruised. And he has two chipped molars on the left side of his jaw which will need caps in due course. 

“Basically, it’s a large amount of soft tissue damage, and the swelling will benefit from the application of cold packs, but it will heal given time. 

“Anyhow, that’s as much as I’m prepared to tell you, but if you’ll wait another twenty minutes or so, Mr Sandburg should be settled in and you can go and sit with him, Detective Ellison. But I trust that you won’t attempt to interrogate my patient until he’s ready and willing,” she added firmly, studying both men in turn until she was sure of their compliance. Satisfied, she nodded briskly before saying, “No doubt I’ll be seeing you again,” and she rose to her feet with a small smile for them both. As they also stood politely, she murmured, “Good day, gentlemen,” before heading back to Sandburg’s room, leaving them watching after her. 

Exchanging a concerned glance, both men sat again, lost in their thoughts as they absorbed the doctor’s information. Eventually, Jim shook himself slightly and turned to face his friend and boss. 

“Well, I guess it could have been a lot worse,” he murmured, with a wry half-grin. “I have to say, Simon, that underneath all that blood-soaked hair and gore, I wasn’t sure if he’d got much face left at all! And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t matter, boss. He’s a good-looking guy. A rather unorthodox appearance, certainly, but attractive in a neo-hippy, bohemian kind of style. Which no doubt is why those phobic bozos were so keen to beat him so badly. 

“Anyhow, thanks for intervening, Simon. With the doc, I mean. And I appreciate you letting me sit with him. He could be vulnerable to further attack after all, and I want – no, _need_ – to watch over him.” 

Simon regarded his subordinate carefully, a frown of concentration creasing his brow. “I’m not sure I’m doing you any favours, Jim. But I believe that _you_ believe he can offer some sort of explanation for whatever weird shit is going on with you. And it’s true that he might well need protection anyway. At least until I can find out what’s going on at the 14th? And what the fallout from the Rainbow Market business is likely to be. 

“So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll be back to check in with you later, and hopefully we’ll both have something positive to report by then.” 

“Thanks again, Simon. And did you notice his room number? Think it means something significant?” and Jim’s face creased in a genuine grin as he chuckled at Simon’s answering grimace. 

“Come on, Jim! You’re the last person I’d expect to be talking about lucky coincidence. But that’s all it is, right? I _don’t_ believe it’s an omen that you should be taking this guy home with you!” and he scowled ferociously as Jim’s laughter grew in volume before finally joining in with him. The release of tension was good for them both, and once they’d calmed and Simon went on his way, Jim was able to contain his impatience with far greater ease until the door to 307 opened, and he was able to enter at last.  


\----------------------------------  


**Some hours later, Blair’s hospital room:**  


Jim shifted yet again in his seat beside the bed where Sandburg lay unmoving, still deeply unconscious. Although he had no intention of leaving his post, other than for a necessary bathroom break, Jim’s long body protested at being confined to the visitor’s chair, which despite a small amount of padding, was plainly not designed for long hours of occupation. He knew he could get up and pace around for a while to get the kinks out of his back and legs, but nevertheless felt reluctant to remove his hand from where it rested lightly on Sandburg’s blanket-covered knee. It seemed to him that as long as he stayed in contact with the smaller man, his senses remained focussed and sharp yet feeling natural and coordinated, and he fancied that the touch might also be helping Sandburg. When Jim moved away for any length of time, the young man stirred restlessly, only to settle again as soon as Jim replaced his hand. At first perplexed, Jim had repeated the exercise several times until he was certain in his own mind that there was some sort of connection, however implausible, and he wasn’t about to question the phenomenon until he could discuss it properly with Sandburg. 

As Jim continued to watch over and monitor the smaller man’s condition, he was unconsciously imprinting Sandburg on a fundamental level, searching behind the temporary damage to the man beneath, and very much approving of what he discovered. He already appreciated Sandburg’s physical appearance even though he ruefully accepted that he would most likely never have given the man a second glance if he had encountered him before his ‘condition’ kicked in. The long-haired academic would have been conspicuously out of place in the types of environment in which Jim was accustomed to move, primarily amongst military and then police personnel, with the possible exception of some members of the Vice Unit. It wasn’t that Jim had never been attracted to another man, even though he didn’t really consider himself as gay or even bi. It was just that, on the rare occasions when he felt the need to scratch a mutual itch with a like-minded comrade, it was normally with a similar type to himself. Clean-cut, buff and pragmatic and with no strings attached. 

On the other hand, he now found Sandburg’s much smaller stature to be very appealing, and remembered only too well how comfortably the sturdy but slender body had fitted against his side. And beneath the sharp antiseptic and medicinal smells surrounding the injured man, Jim could still make out Sandburg’s own personal scent, which was extremely enticing to his sentinel-sensitive nose. So much so that he had to consciously restrain himself from burrowing said nose into the silky skin of the elegant neck, particularly behind the young man’s ear where he knew the scent would be strongest. 

His hearing was so acute now that Jim had no trouble in listening to the steady beat of Sandburg’s heart, and he could easily make out the rush of blood through veins and arteries, and the still somewhat strained breaths that expanded the injured chest. 

The only sense in which he had yet to indulge was taste, and he was growing ever more convinced that, should he ever be allowed to complete the full set, he was going to be one happy bunny. 

But he still didn’t understand why, and therein lay his problem. And the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that this man must have the answer. Because if he didn’t, Jim was up shit creek without a paddle, and he was equally certain of that.  


\----------------------------------  


Blair moaned in distress, his panic burgeoning as he realised he was back in the holding cell surrounded by Wallace’s brutal disciples. Their faces contorted with hatred and revulsion, they screamed vile obscenities at him as they closed in, and this time he knew there was no escape. Outside the cell’s bars an audience of grinning cops watched with unholy glee, the disgust and derision dripping from their lips like venom as they urged the baying mob to teach the little fag a lesson. To make it last, and make it hurt. As the booted feet and fists began to fly, Blair screamed, his terror overwhelming him as he stared his imminent and agonising death in the face. 

And woke up abruptly, shuddering and crying out and thrashing blindly as he tried desperately to escape the strong hands holding him down. On a bed? 

As his confused mind tried to make sense of his situation, he gradually became aware of a firm yet soothing voice urging him to calm down before he hurt himself further. 

“It’s OK, Sandburg. Blair. You’re going to be OK. Stop struggling, Chief, or you’ll rip out your IV. Calm down, OK? You’re safe. It was just a bad dream….” 

Finally forcing open bleary blue eyes, full awareness tardily began to kick in, and Blair realised several things almost at once. He was in a hospital room, the man holding him so carefully was Detective Ellison, and he hurt like hell. So much so that he was completely unable to prevent the sob that burst from his dry and painful throat, and unwanted tears sprang to his eyes, spilling over from swollen and sore lids to run down his bruised and beard-stubbled cheeks. 

“Ssshhh, it’s going to be OK, Mr Sandburg.” The gentle voice was back, and despite his agony, Blair felt compelled to listen. 

“If you’ll lie still, I’ll press the call button for the nurse. I’m sure they’ll be able to give you something for the pain now you’re properly awake. Just try to be patient a bit longer.” 

“’S’OK for you t’ say,” Blair croaked irritably, his face twisting in discomfort as his throat protested the effort. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and he felt the pull of sutures in his lip and inside his cheek. 

“Where’m I? Wha’ happn’d?” he mumbled, trying not to stretch the abused tissue of his mouth too much. 

“Just hang on a bit longer, Mr Sandburg,” Ellison replied patiently, although Blair couldn’t miss the flash of exasperation that crossed the big cop’s patrician features. “I promise you I’ll tell you everything you need to know once you’ve been checked over. But right now I’m thinking that a dose of happy juice is more important than satisfying your curiosity.” 

He was saved from any attempted come-back when the door opened to reveal the same pretty brunette nurse who had checked on Blair previously. 

“Finally! Sleeping Beauty awakens!” she exclaimed with a smile. “You had us worried for a bit, Mr Sandburg. We thought we may have to start looking for a handsome prince or two.” 

Despite his pain, Blair couldn’t help but offer her a tiny grin, touched by her infectious cheerfulness and genuine sympathy. 

“It’s Blair,” he whispered cautiously. “And a frog might be more in order, don’t you think?” 

“Not a bit of it, Blair! You’ll be as right a rain in no time! But let me have a look at you, then I’ll ask the doctor if you can have something stronger. You’re obviously in pain, and there’s no reason for you to suffer needlessly. If you can give us some space, Detective?” and she looked expectantly over at Jim. 

Although it went against every instinct, Jim knew he had no right to insist on being present while Blair was being treated, so he nodded reluctantly as he turned for the door. 

“I’ll just go down and get some coffee then, Nurse Bartlett. And I’ll wait outside until you’re done.” 

Dismissing him with a smile, she turned back to her patient. “OK, Blair. Let’s get this done as quickly as possible so I can leave you in peace. And it’s Brenda….”  


\---------------------------------  


Knowing that he’d have some time on his hands, Jim took the opportunity to freshen up a little in the restroom before heading outside to make a couple of calls. He wanted to bring Simon up to speed on Blair’s condition now the young man was awake at last, and also to make good on his promise to call Ella Burgstrom. Fishing her card from his pocket, he dialled the number, which was answered on the second ring. 

“Is that Detective Ellison? Have you found him? Have you found Blair?” Her breathless enquiry was testament to her very real anxiety, and Jim was glad that Sandburg apparently had people who truly cared about him. 

“Yes, Ms Burgstrom, I have. I’m sorry to have to tell you that he’s at Cascade General Hospital right now. I had to bring him in as he got hurt while he was in custody.” 

“What? How? I mean, I know those bastards who attacked us hit him a few times, but he didn’t seem to be that bad when the pi…cops…dragged him off!” 

Jim sighed, sympathising with her, and deeply ashamed of what he had to tell her. 

“I’m sorry, Ms Burgstrom, but apparently Mr Sandburg was mistakenly put in the same holding cell as the protestors, and he was beaten up. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, and I won’t make any excuses for the error. All I can tell you is that I – and my captain – intend to get to the bottom of this. And I also intend to make sure that Mr Sandburg gets proper treatment from now on. He’ll be kept under observation here for the rest of tonight at least, and I’ll be staying here with him.” 

“Those bastards!” The fury in Ella’s hissed comment came clearly through their connection, although Jim wasn’t immediately sure as to which ‘bastards’ she was referring. She soon enlightened him, however, as she spat, “I’d expect such behaviour from Wallace’s asshole followers, but those pigs! It was deliberate, wasn’t it? They hate us, and anyone who sympathises with the LGBT community! Goddess, if I could, I’d kick their collective asses!” 

And Jim knew that in this instance he couldn’t deny it, much as it went against the grain. 

“I wish I could say that you’re mistaken, Ms Burgstrom, but in all honesty I think you might have reason to be angry. Having said that, I assure you that Mr Sandburg – Blair – will be properly protected now, and I’ll let you know how he’s getting on. I don’t know yet whether he’ll be discharged tomorrow or not, but as I say, I’ll let you know, OK?” 

He could hear the deep sigh as the young woman let go of her anger, and her voice was sad and soft as she replied. 

“Thank you, Detective. I’m sorry I went off like that at you. I don’t believe you deserved it, and I’m grateful for your concern for Blair. It’s just so hard, you know? He’s such a special man, and the last person to merit that sort of cruelty. Please give him my love, won’t you? And tell him I’ll come in to see him if they keep him in, OK? Otherwise I’ll call round once he’s discharged. I’m sure he could do with a little TLC.” 

“I will, Ms Burgstrom. And I’ll keep you in the loop, OK?” and he terminated the call, feeling like pond scum simply because of the filth created by a few of his so-called colleagues that had the power to contaminate the rest of the force by implication in the eyes of the public they were sworn to protect. 

A short call to Simon garnered little fresh news although Banks did assure Jim that he wasn’t letting the matter drop. He had been in contact with the Mayor, the Commissioner and the Chief of Police who all expressed their concerns, albeit in fairly cagey terms for the present, needing to keep their collective political asses covered until there was more definite evidence of wrong-doing. Simon did report that he had personally contacted Captain Danvers at the 14th, informing him that he would be pursuing an investigation into claims of gross misconduct amongst his uniformed officers, which of course had met with vehement denial, but that was the extent of progress so far. Jim knew well enough that it was too soon to expect more, but felt impatient all the same on Sandburg’s behalf and also for all those adversely affected by the behaviour of the few bad apples in Danvers’ precinct. 

Finishing that call, he decided that the nurse had had time enough to check on Blair, so he drained the last of his coffee and headed back to room 307 to continue his watch. 

And hopefully talk to Sandburg if the man was up to it, because they had plenty to discuss if Jim had his way.  


\----------------------------------  


When Jim re-entered Blair’s room, he took a moment to monitor the young man’s condition before approaching the bed. Blair’s eyes were closed, and his breathing seemed slightly easier as he lay propped against the pillows, apparently asleep. However, despite his relaxed state Jim knew from his slightly elevated heart rate and other physiological functions that the other man was only dozing, so he quietly crossed the room and made himself as comfortable as possible in the bedside chair, prepared to wait until Sandburg acknowledged his presence. 

A few minutes later, Sandburg sighed softly and cracked open one swollen eye, a sliver of blue searching for then focussing on Jim’s face as the older man watched over him. A slight grin pulled at his lips as he swallowed, plainly working on lubricating his throat enough to speak. 

“Hey, man. Didn’t expect you to still be here. What gives?” 

“Just doing my job, Mr Sandburg. I told Ella I’d keep an eye on you, and that’s what I intend to do. How’re you feeling, Chief? Want some of this water?” and he reached for the pitcher on the nightstand, pouring some into a cup and adding a straw. 

“Yeah, man. Thanks. Throat’s pretty sore right now,” Blair croaked hoarsely, gratefully sipping at the offered drink, his shoulders supported by Jim’s free arm. When he had had enough, Jim set the cup aside and carefully lowered his charge back against the pillows. 

“Gotta say you look a bit more relaxed, Mr Sandburg. I assume you had a dose of happy juice?” 

“Yeah, Brenda asked the doc for the good stuff. Not feeling any pain at the moment. Just _reeeeally_ mellow,” and Blair snickered at his own words before adding, “You can call me Blair if you want, Detective. Or Chief. I like that,” and his lazy grin touched Jim even though he knew it was the drugs talking. 

“OK, Chief. And if that’s all right with you, you can call me Jim. I’m hoping we can get to know each other better once you’re up and about again.” 

“Sure, Jim. Although what a big, buff cop would want with a nerdy short-assed Jew like me I don’t know. Did I do something wrong? Damned if I can remember.” And he huffed wryly before adding, “Can’t be because of my stunning good looks for sure,” and he lifted a lax hand towards his battered face. 

“Don’t worry about that for now, Chief. The doc said you’ll heal up just fine, so don’t get depressed about it. You’ll just be rather colourful for a while until the bruising fades.” 

“Nah, not worried really. Not much to write home about anyway. Not compared to a Greek God like you,” and the happily dopey young man attempted a lascivious leer that even his damaged features couldn’t disguise. 

“I may well remind you of that when you’re sober again Chief. But now I think you should try and get some more rest before the nurses come in to poke at you again. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise, man?” 

“Yeah, I promise.”  


\-------------------------------------  


**Following morning, Blair’s room:**  


A haggard and bedraggled Jim leaned against the window, his back to the rising sun and butt propped against the ledge, his powerful arms crossed over his impressive chest. He felt tired, edgy and uncomfortably grimy, even though he had no intention of deserting his chosen post yet. Sandburg was still asleep, having barely roused at the last visit from the night nurse. Brenda Bartlett’s night-shift colleague was an older woman, not as talkative or outgoing as her younger counterpart, but her touch was competent and gentle when she checked Blair over, and her smile for her charge was pure compassion and Jim had no problem with that. 

Having said that she had dismissed him brusquely to go get some coffee and give her some space, so Jim had done just that, in all honesty glad to stretch his legs and try to work some of the stiffness out of his abused body. He now loathed that thrice-damned bedside chair, having been forced to spend the night in its dubious comfort, and was feeling every one of his years. 

Now he was waiting for the arrival of Megan, who had been sent by Simon to sit with Blair while Jim went home for a shower, some decent food and a change of clothes. Although part of Jim resented the order, instinctively feeling that he should remain at his post, Banks was having none of it, wanting to make sure that his lead detective and friend was taking care of himself also. And truth be told, Jim wanted to go and set up the loft to receive its new occupant, as he was determined to get Sandburg under his roof using whatever means necessary. 

Detecting the signs of returning consciousness in his charge, he focussed intently on the smaller figure, needing to be ready to offer whatever assistance he could. His own small discomforts forgotten, Jim’s expression morphed to one which combined tenderness and sympathy leavened with a measure of smouldering indignation as he catalogued Sandburg’s current appearance. 

Although the staff had made an effort to wash the worst of the blood out of Blair’s long curls, it still looked lank and lifeless in its loose ponytail, and Jim knew that a few of the locks immediately adjacent to the scalp laceration had been sacrificed to the doctor’s scissors. Then again, it was only a relatively small area, and Jim believed that it could easily be disguised by the surrounding hair until it grew back again. 

As for Sandburg’s face, it actually looked worse this morning, as the bruising had now blossomed in all its glory. Although the swelling was considerably reduced thanks to the cold packs that had been applied overnight, combined with the sutures and heavy morning beard growth, it gave the young man the appearance of a desperado or pirate. It was as well that Jim had seen far worse in his past, and knew from experience as much as from Doctor Wu’s assurances that once healed, the damage Blair had sustained would leave minimal scarring. But the small signs of unwarranted violence would always be visible to sentinel sight, and deep down, Jim understood that too. 

On her latest visit, the nurse had disconnected Blair’s IV, since it was assumed that he would be able to take oral antibiotics from now on until he had finished the course. Similarly, he was expected to eat and drink, albeit with no little discomfort. The sutures in lip and inner cheek would make anything but soft and bland foods extremely painful to ingest, and Jim caught himself planning the provisions with which he should restock his larder. 

The damaged ribs, lacerations and deep bruising on the rest of the young man’s body would severely restrict Sandburg’s movements for some time to come, and once again Jim surprised himself with the depth of his desire and determination to cosset and care for this virtual but already so precious stranger. 

Just then, a low moan signalled Sandburg’s return to consciousness, and Jim eagerly returned to his place by the bedside, restraining himself from gathering the smaller body into his arms only by force of will. 

“Ooohhh, crap. What fucking truck hit me? If I survive this, I’m going to sue the driver’s ass big-time!” Blair’s rusty voice grated in Jim’s ears, and he winced in sympathy as Sandburg’s face scrunched up in pain. 

“Easy, Chief. I’m guessing last night’s happy juice has worn off and everything’s hitting you at once, huh? Try and relax, and I’ll push the button for the nurse, OK?” and Jim leaned over to do just that as Blair slowly opened his eyes a fraction, and tried to turn his aching head a little in order to study his visitor once again. 

“You still here, Detective Jim? Who’d you piss off to draw babysitting duty? ‘Cos if you’re here by choice, it’s above and beyond, man.” 

However, before Jim could come up with a reasonably coherent response, the door opened to admit Nurse Brenda Bartlett, back on duty and smiling cheerfully. 

“Good morning, Blair, Detective Ellison. How’s my favourite patient today? You look like you could do with something for the pain, hon,” and she approached the bed clutching a small paper cup in her hand. 

“Here you go, Blair. It’s only a standard painkiller, but should take the edge off for you.” Her grin widened at Blair’s wary sidelong glance, but he made no other protest as she offered him the meds, washing the pills down with a few sips of water. 

“Good boy. Now, are you up to trying a bit of breakfast? Just soft foods and juice for now. But you need to eat something before Dr Wu comes to check on you if you want to get discharged any time soon.” 

Although he looked less than enthused, Blair nodded and essayed a small smile. “Thanks, Brenda. I’ll try, OK? I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible, even though I appreciate everything you guys have done for me.” 

“Fair enough, you flatterer, you. OK, I’ll go rustle up something for you, and see you shortly.” And she exited the room with a smile for them both. 

At her departure, Jim turned to face Blair again, noting the look of expectancy on the battered features, and gearing himself up to begin what was sure to be an awkward discussion. 

However, his intention was sabotaged once again when a knock on the door announced the arrival of Megan, who entered the room with her customary flourish and a wide grin for both men, although her attention was plainly focussed primarily on Blair. 

“G’day, Jimbo, Mr Sandburg. I’m Inspector Megan Conner, here to relieve Jimbo for a while. Pleased to meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances,” and she strode over to the bed, offering her hand to a rather bemused Blair. 

“Um, pleased to meet you also, Inspector,” Blair murmured, trying not to wince as he raised his hand to shake the offered appendage. “Um, is it normal for someone like me to have such high profile bodyguards? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it, but I’m hardly important.” 

“Now, that’s where you’d be wrong, Chief, although this isn’t the time or the place to explain,” Jim almost growled, glaring daggers at Megan’s back. 

“Look, I have to go now, to get freshened up and check in at the PD. But I’ll be back in a couple of hours, OK? And perhaps by then you’ll know more about when you’re going to get out of here,” and he beat a hasty retreat, thinking that if he had to leave Blair’s side temporarily, he might as well get it over with as soon as possible.  


\---------------------------  


As Jim left the room, Blair’s somewhat disconcerted gaze returned to Megan, a portion of his brain automatically cataloguing her appearance and liking what he saw. The inspector was tall and slim, obviously very fit and active, with thick brunette hair framing a very attractive and animated face. He grinned as appreciatively as his damaged lip would allow, and, since the painkillers were kicking in nicely, he relaxed enough to feel able to talk a little if his visitor so wished. 

It soon became clear that she was only too happy to do just that, and before long, Blair had learned far more about Detective Jim Ellison than he was comfortable with, even though Megan didn’t actually refer to him by name. The direction and content of their conversation was enough for a man of Blair’s acuity, however temporarily compromised, to put two and two together and come up with a startling revelation. And that revelation completely threw him for a loop. 

It would seem that Detective Jim Ellison was a Sentinel, and Blair didn’t know whether to whoop for joy or run away screaming, injuries notwithstanding.  


\---------------------------------------  


Megan herself wasn’t lacking in perception, and she soon realised that her information had at the very least given Blair pause for thought, so she backed off, feeling both a little guilty for upsetting the young man and for exposing her colleague’s problems if only by implication. On the other hand, she truly believed she was doing the right thing by both of them if the contents of the sentinel-related articles she had been able to access were anything to go by, so she stiffened her resolve and prepared herself to stand by her convictions in the face of any future accusations of meddling.  


\--------------------------------------  


After a while, Blair lay back against his pillows, eyes closed in completely unfeigned weariness even though he was far from sleep. Having apologised to Megan, he terminated their ‘discussion’, unable to absorb any further information at that point. What he needed was time to mull over the possible ramifications of what he had already heard. In truth, it was Inspector Conner who had done most of the talking, Blair being forced into frustrating and unnatural taciturnity on account of his sore mouth and throat, but now his head throbbed with tension despite the earlier medication, and he desperately desired a period of quiet reflection. 

At some point, Nurse Brenda had entered with a breakfast tray, and after being helped to the bathroom to do the necessary, Blair had managed to drink his juice and force down some jello _(and why was it always green?_ he wondered absently.) He hoped it would be enough to satisfy the doctor so that he could be discharged as soon as possible, although part of his mind dreaded the thought of returning alone to his cheap and shabby efficiency unit. But he didn’t really have any alternative, since he had no idea of Naomi’s present whereabouts, even if she could be persuaded to come and stay with him for a few days, and there was no one else he felt comfortable about asking to help him out. Sure, Ella and Maddie would offer without a second thought, but with Ella about to pop at any moment, he refused to impose on them. 

And it certainly never occurred to him that Jim Ellison might have something to say on the matter. 

As he continued to lie there, breathing steadily as he attempted to find his centre, his normally quick and agile brain felt blurred by pain and anxiety such that he felt as if he was swimming through mud. Nevertheless, his thoughts stubbornly returned to the question of what Ellison’s intentions were towards him, exacerbating his distress levels even more. 

It was certainly true that he had been fascinated by the subject of tribal Sentinels for many years, and had hoped to follow up on his Master’s thesis with a doctoral dissertation on the contribution of Sentinels in modern, industrialised societies. However, although he had managed to find many individuals with one or two heightened senses, he had failed to find the real thing, and reluctantly abandoned the idea. After an expedition to Peru the previous year, he had instead become fascinated by the shaman of the Chopec tribe with whom he was lucky enough to spend some quality time, and had changed his dissertation topic accordingly. Adding the new data to the research he had already done on the subject, he had recently completed his paper and had in fact submitted it just days ago. Entitled _‘‘The Way of the Shaman’: Anachronism or Guiding Force in the Modern Era?’,_ he was scheduled to defend it on Friday week, and he hoped that he would be recovered enough by then to do it justice. 

It was just his luck that apparently he had finally found a ‘modern Sentinel’ – or the Sentinel had found him – now that it was too late to use him as the subject of his dissertation. Then again, his scientific mind couldn’t help but wonder if he might write an article or two on Detective Ellison, before shutting down abruptly on that idea. Far more worrying at this point was what interest Ellison had in Blair, and on that unsettling thought, Blair finally succumbed to sleep.  


\----------------------------  


When Blair awoke, it was to find that Jim Ellison was once more at his bedside, and that the attractive but disconcerting Inspector Conner had gone. Despite his concerns about the man’s intentions towards him, Blair couldn’t help but feel a certain warm glow, readily acknowledging that he was attracted to the buff detective on a purely physical level. And if there seemed to be a deeper undercurrent to his attraction, he discounted it for now as the result of his present circumstances. 

As he turned his head to meet Ellison’s gaze, basking in the unaccustomed warmth and kindness he saw therein, the big man leaned forward a little with a gentle smile and murmured, “Hey again, Chief. How’re you feeling? Megan said you’d been able to have a little conversation before falling asleep again. And she said you’d managed to eat some breakfast. Dr Wu’s doing her rounds now, so all being well she might give you your marching orders if you satisfy her expectations.” 

“Oh, man, I’m down with that!” Blair’s response was still somewhat hoarse but heart-felt, and Jim was pleased to hear it. “My insurance only covers the basics, and I sure can’t afford to stay here any longer. Food stinks also,” and Blair’s face crinkled in a grimace of disgust, causing Jim’s grin to widen. 

“Can’t disagree with you there, Chief,” he chuckled. “And I hope you don’t mind, but as I thought you might be being discharged today, I swung by your place and picked up some clean clothes for you. Um, your landlord opened up for me when I showed him my badge.” What he didn’t say was that he had been horrified at the damp, dilapidated unit which Blair called ‘home’, and was all the more determined to get the young man under his roof and under his protection. 

“Thanks, man. That was good of you. I had visions of being sent home in scrubs. By the way it is only Wednesday, isn’t it?” and at Jim’s slightly puzzled nod of assent, he continued, “That’s good. I wondered if I’d lost a day what with sleeping so much. I’m not use to more than a few hours a night, and I’ve got a lot to do when I get home. I have to let the department know what happened, and arrange for my classes to be covered.” 

“Don’t worry on that account, Chief. I took it upon myself to call on your behalf. Your friend Janice and your student helper – Becca, isn’t it? – had already been informed of the attack by some other students, and they were glad of the update. You have a lot of people concerned about your welfare by the sound of it.” 

“Nah, not really, although it’s good of you to say. I’m just a lowly Teaching Fellow, not very important at all. Although it would be nice to think I might get an offer of tenure if I receive my doctorate. I have to defend my diss a week on Friday, so I hope I’m a bit less colourful by then.” 

Somewhat thrown by the smaller man’s information, Jim managed to hide his momentary discomfiture and merely said, “I’m sure you’ll be much better by then. And I’m sure you’ll do just fine, so I guess I’ll have to call you Doctor Sandburg very soon, huh?” 

Smiling as widely as he could manage, Blair’s response was open and unaffected as he replied, “That’s the general idea, man, although I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing much of each other once I’m back on my feet. You’ll have more important issues to deal with by then.” 

His own smile becoming somewhat strained, Jim simply contented himself by murmuring, “We’ll see about that, Chief,” when the door opened to admit Dr Wu, and all other conversation was put aside until her examination was completed.  


\------------------------------  


Although the examination didn’t take all that long, to Jim it seemed interminable as he kicked his heels impatiently in the corridor outside Blair’s room. Assuming that the young man would be passed as fit for discharge, Jim knew that the difficult part of his mission was just about to commence, and he ran through the arguments he had marshalled in order to persuade Blair to come home with him. Of course, he could have simply insisted that it was necessary for Sandburg’s own protection until the enquiry into the 14th Precinct’s personnel was concluded, but there was far more at stake than the provision of a temporary ‘safe house’. Now he just needed to convince the injured man of his own conclusions, and was certain that the best way of doing that was to appeal to Sandburg’s inherent academic curiosity. Knowing the man was the nearest thing to an expert in sentinel lore in the modern world, if not the only one, Jim was banking on capturing Sandburg’s undivided attention through the candid revelation of his condition and his reaction to Sandburg’s presence. If only Sandburg could accept that they had a connection, Jim was certain that everything else would fall into place even if by trial and error. 

He had absolutely no inkling at that time that he might be asking the other man to give up life as he knew it for Jim’s sake.  


\------------------------------  


Once Dr Wu had completed her examination, Jim re-entered Blair’s room to find the young man sitting disconsolately on the side of the bed, miserably eyeing up the small pile of clothes beside him. Easily discerning the cause for the glum expression, Jim decided that a straightforward, practical approach was the best way to proceed. 

“Good news, then, Chief? I gather the Doc reckons you’re good to go, so do you want some help getting into those?” and he nodded towards the clothing. “I’ve had busted ribs before, and I know it’s a bitch to bend, so let me give you a hand,” and he approached the bed, matter-of-factly picking up the folded boxers from the top of the pile. He had deliberately chosen soft, comfortable sweats and a roomy tee, so it wouldn’t take too much of a joint effort to get the smaller man dressed. 

He didn’t fail to note the immediate flash of gratitude that lit the bruised features, although it was swiftly followed by hints of suspicion, resentment and embarrassment. 

“Um, you don’t have to, Detective. I mean, I’ve already taken up too much of your time, and I don’t expect you to wait on me also. I’m used to doing for myself. Have been for years now,” Blair added with a wry grin. 

“It’s no trouble, Chief, and I’m sure you can’t wait to get out of here. The doc might change her mind about releasing you if she thinks you can’t manage, so we’d better get you dressed. Then we can get you to somewhere more comfortable. And safer.” 

“Oh yeah, I’m down with that, man. Right now I need my own bed, without anyone poking at me. I’ll be OK soon, I’m sure. I just have to rest up a bit.” 

Sitting down carefully beside the smaller man, Jim decided it was now or never to broach the subject of Sandburg’s accommodation, even if it angered him. 

“Look, Chief, if you don’t mind me saying so, your unit isn’t the best place for recuperation, is it? I mean, I couldn’t help but notice how cold and damp it is, and you’ve no food in. You can’t stay by yourself there. You’re going to need help for a while.” 

Fixing Jim with a puzzled look, Blair replied, “It’s not that bad, detective. I know it doesn’t look much, but it’s all I could afford after my last place blew up. I lost nearly everything, and I was lucky to find somewhere cheap so quickly.” 

Taken aback, Jim exclaimed, “Blew up, Chief? What the hell happened?” 

With a rusty-sounding chuckle, Blair enlightened him. 

“Well, see, I used to rent a warehouse down by the docks. Plenty of space, even if the rats were like this big,” and he held his hands out to demonstrate, like an angler boasting about the size of the one that got away. 

“Anyway, what I didn’t know was that some gang had set up a meth lab at the other end, and it blew up. I got out OK, but most of my stuff didn’t,” and for a moment he looked downcast, recalling the few but precious personal items he had lost. Then he brightened as he raised his head again. 

“Larry was OK, though. He was just shaken up.” 

“Larry?” Jim queried, suddenly disconcerted at the thought of another man in Sandburg’s life. 

“Yeah, man. Larry’s a Barbary ape. I borrowed him from the Animal Behaviour study group because I wanted to conduct an experiment about primate reactions to TV violence. I couldn’t find anywhere else that would accept him, so I rented the warehouse. Had to give him back after the explosion, though. I really miss the little guy,” and his face fell for a moment. 

His own face clearing with relief, Jim commiserated. “Sorry to hear about that, Chief. I’m really glad you both survived more or less intact, but it only serves to endorse the suggestion I’m about to make. You need to be in a safer place at least for the time being, for your own protection, and you need help. Doctor’s orders.” 

But before Blair had a chance to respond, another thought suddenly struck him, and he hurried on, “Um, I just thought. You might have someone else in mind already. I mean, like Ms Burgstrom. Is she your intended, Mr Sandburg? You were very protective of her….” 

Slightly bemused by Jim’s sudden return to formality, Blair shot him a speculative glance before saying, “No, man. Ella’s a dear friend, but I couldn’t impose on her like that. She and Maddie’ll have enough to deal with when the baby comes, which is anytime now. Although I do have a vested interest,” he added with a chuckle. “I’m proud to say that I’m the baby’s biological father. Ella and Maddie wanted a child, and I agreed to be the sperm donor.” And his pride and pleasure shone in his eyes as he grinned as broadly as he could manage. 

Greatly relieved, Jim relaxed again, but only for a moment before he plunged straight back in. “In that case Chief, I want to suggest that you come home with me. You’d be under my protection until the business over your assault is dealt with, and I trained as an army medic before joining the PD. I’d feel more comfortable being able to keep an eye on you, and my Captain agrees with me.” He didn’t mention that Simon’s agreement was very reluctantly given, and only because he had seen with his own eyes how Jim had reacted to Blair’s proximity. 

“So, what do you say?” 

This time it was Blair’s turn to be disconcerted, but only insofar as he had expected something like this given Megan’s information. It was time to put his theory to the test a little, even if his own feelings towards the probable answer were more than a little ambivalent. 

“It’s a very generous offer, man, but I couldn’t impose on you like that. You have your job to do, and I’m certain a Major Crimes detective shouldn’t be expected to waste his time on a lowly babysitting detail. 

“Unless there’s something else you wanted to tell me? Like, just how heightened are your senses, Jim?” 

And Jim nearly fell off the bed in shock.  


\------------------------------------  


**Part 2: A Tentative Arrangement:**  


**Later that morning, #307, 852 Prospect:**  


Blair stood uncertainly just inside the door of #307 as Jim locked it behind them. He peered around the spacious loft apartment, but for once didn’t have the energy to indulge in the sort of detailed inspection he would normally have engaged in as he simply didn’t feel up to it. In truth, he felt dreadful. His mid-section was aching abominably thanks to the myriad deep bruises and the cracked ribs, and his head felt ready to drop from his shoulders at any moment. Coupled with a feeling of nausea and intermittent dizziness, and it was a wonder that he was still on his feet. In all honesty, he didn’t know how he had gotten here in the first place, but was too queasy to worry about it for now. He was vaguely aware that under normal circumstances he would have put up more of an argument, but his usually independent and feisty nature was temporarily subdued enough for him to have succumbed to Jim’s persistence, so here he was. 

Blinking dazedly up into Jim’s concerned gaze as he felt a warm hand squeeze his shoulder, he merely nodded mutely when the big man murmured, “Come on, Chief. You’re ready to drop. Let’s get you over and settled on the sofa, so you can rest up. It’s about time for your meds, so once you’ve taken them, you can get some more beauty sleep, OK?” 

Steering his charge carefully over to the sofa where he encouraged the younger man to lie full-length, Jim propped him up comfortably with several pillows, and covered him with a warm afghan. Blair offered him a tiny smile and swallowed the meds he was presented with unquestioningly, which was another indication of how out-of–sorts he felt, after which he closed his eyes and dozed off again. 

Sitting on the sofa opposite, Jim studied his new house guest with a worried frown. Although he was glad to have Blair under his roof at last, he was well aware that he had taken advantage of the younger man’s weakened physical condition to press his point. Even after such a short acquaintance, his instinct told him that Sandburg would be normally too proud and stubborn to impose himself on anyone, let alone a complete stranger, and he only hoped that once Blair was recovered enough to take a more active part in any future discussion, Jim would be able to consolidate his argument and convince him to stay. He freely admitted that he had been shaken when Sandburg had recognised Jim for what he was, but in retrospect it wasn’t really surprising given the young man’s familiarity with his favourite subject, and as far as Jim was concerned, it was yet more proof that Blair belonged with him. At that moment he had had no idea that Megan had already broached the subject with Blair, as the other man hadn’t mentioned the fact, but even had he known it, it was doubtful that Jim would have changed his opinion. Blair was his. His Guide. 

Because that’s what he truly believed now. Before seeking Sandburg out, he had taken the opportunity to skim through Blair’s Master’s thesis, which was available on-line, and had immediately homed in on the description of the Sentinel’s companion, or helpmeet. Thinking back, he recalled that, according to Sandburg, the helpmeet, or Guide, watched the Sentinel’s back while he or she used his or her senses, grounding them with voice and touch so that they didn’t get lost in one sense to the exclusion of everything else. Sandburg had called these fugue states ‘zone-outs’, after the author of the original monograph, Sir Richard Burton, whose work formed the basis of all later studies into sentinel lore. And Jim was sure that the episodes of lost time he had begun to experience were one and the same. 

But from what Jim could ascertain, Sandburg had taken the study of the companion further than had Burton, placing more of an emphasis on the importance of the Guide’s role. According to Sandburg’s observations of indigenous pairings, the Guide wasn’t simply some convenient and amenable partner, but had to be compatible with the Sentinel. And if that was the case, it would explain why it was Sandburg in particular who had such a beneficial effect on Jim, where everyone else, however sympathetic to his condition, was unable to help him. Even Simon couldn’t calm his senses like Sandburg could. 

And if everything he believed turned out to be true, it was also monumentally unfair. 

To the depths of his soul he knew he needed Blair. He needed him by his side at home as well as at work. But how could Jim ask it of him? Blair was bright, beautiful, and talented. For God’s sake, he was about to get his PhD, and at what age? He looked about eighteen, even if his biography said that he was just turned twenty four. That was still incredibly young for what he had achieved so far. And far too young for Jim to demand that he give up his safe, academic life for the sake of an aging, anal retentive, crabby cop. 

On the other hand, Jim was sure he had so much more to offer given the right back-up. Why would these enhanced senses have manifested if he wasn’t able to use them for the benefit of his tribe? There just had to be more to it than that, and all he could do was hope that Blair might be able to explain it to him, or at least come up with credible theories. 

Shaking his head, he gave up the internal debate in favour of repairing to the kitchen. When Blair woke, he would surely be hungry, and Jim determined to prepare something both tasty and easily ingested. It was the least he could do.  


\-----------------------------------  


When Blair woke next, he felt considerably better apart from the fact that his bladder was protesting mightily for release. He cracked open somewhat gummy eyes and peered carefully around him, unwilling to move just yet despite the demands of his over-stressed bladder. However, before he could summon up the energy to act on his own, Jim appeared before him, squatting down to grin into Blair’s eyes. 

“Hey, Chief, good to see you awake. Need the bathroom, huh?” 

At Blair’s bemused frown, he tapped his ear and smirked knowingly, and after a moment Blair found himself grinning back. 

“Wow, that’s amazing, Detective. Being able to scan me like that. And you’re right. Can you show me the way to the little boy’s room before I embarrass myself?” 

Smiling warmly, Jim held out his hands. “Better than that, I’ll take you, Chief. But call me Jim, OK? Now, I think you’ll need some help getting up, because I know you’ll have stiffened up some, so let me do the work,” and he carefully eased an arm around Blair’s shoulders, taking his weight as the young man sat up slowly and swung his legs around until his feet rested on the floor. Even with Jim’s help, Blair’s ribs protested the movement, and he shut his eyes as he breathed through the pain. 

“If you prefer, Chief,” Jim’s concerned tone cut into his thoughts, “I can always get you a bottle?” 

He snickered as Blair’s eyes shot open, and the furious glare levelled at him answered that one for him. 

“Or not! Let’s get you up then,” and he eased Blair to his feet, waiting patiently until his charge stopped swaying in place. “This way,” and the pair made their way slowly to the bathroom, Blair determined to stay on his feet even if Jim was doing most of the work. 

As Jim pushed open the door, he remarked cheerfully, “Here it is, Chief. Do you want any help?” 

“Um, no thanks, Jim. I can take it from here,” came the rather bashful but firm reply. 

“If you say so, Chief. But call when you’ve done. I don’t want you trying to get back to the sofa on your own.” 

Nodding in wry compliance, Blair shuffled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before approaching the toilet with some trepidation. He knew very well that standing to take care of business was just asking for trouble, so he carefully pushed down the boxers and sweats Jim had brought for him and sat down, sighing in relief as he let go at last. 

Outside the door, Jim hovered anxiously, knowing that Blair needed some privacy, but worried that he might take a tumble if he got dizzy again. He was greatly relieved when he heard the toilet flush, and the sounds of Blair washing his hands, and was ready and waiting when the door opened again. 

When Blair emerged, Jim steered him carefully over to the dining table, where a tall glass of milk and his meds awaited him. “There you go, Chief,” he murmured as he settled the smaller man in his seat. “You’ll feel better once those kick in, and I think you could do with something to eat. Something other than green jello, that is,” and he was gratified when Blair snickered in response. 

“Thanks, Jim. I gotta say I could eat, although I’m not sure how much I can manage,” he added, eyeing the sizeable bowl of eggs Jim was preparing to scramble. 

“Just eat what you can, Chief,” Jim replied reassuringly. “And once we’re done, we can hang out for a while if you’re up to it. I think we need to talk.” 

Blair offered him a rueful half-grin. “Yeah, we do, Jim. We really do….”  


\--------------------------------  


A short while later, Blair sat once more on the sofa, sipping carefully at a cup of fresh coffee. He had managed to eat a good portion of scrambled eggs, even if he had balked at the toast, in deference to his gashed cheek and chipped teeth. The pain meds had kicked in nicely, and all in all he felt so much better. Glancing over to where Jim was finishing off the kitchen clean up, he grinned appreciatively. 

“Thanks for that, man. It was really thoughtful of you to cook breakfast food at what – nearly dinnertime – just for me. You cook a mean scrambled egg, Jim.” 

“De nada, Chief,” Jim replied with a pleased smirk. “I figured you could do with something that would go down easily, and you can’t call what you had this morning ‘breakfast’. And to be honest, I can eat breakfast food at any time of the day. Tomorrow I’m thinking that soup would be good. I’ve got some home-made chicken soup in the freezer that Sally sent around, so I’ll get it out to defrost overnight in the refrigerator.” 

“Sounds good, man. So, who’s Sally? Your lady friend?” and Blair attempted a fair impression of a ‘nudge, nudge, wink, wink’ expression. 

“Nah, nothing like that, Junior,” Jim chuckled, vastly amused by this evidence of the gradual return of Blair’s natural sparkle. This was the Sandburg he had witnessed at the market, and he was gratified to finally be on the receiving end of such vivacity, even if still relatively muted. 

“Sally was our housekeeper, and after I left home I kept in touch. She was like a mother to me.” He deliberately kept the explanation short and to the point hoping that Sandburg wouldn’t push him further where his family was concerned, because that was somewhere he really didn’t want to go. The younger man shot him a somewhat speculative look, but took the hint and didn’t pursue the topic, even though he secretly determined to find out more about this enigmatic cop in due course, given the opportunity. Then he was struck by another thought. 

“Hey, Jim. Is there, like, a girlfriend anyway? I mean, is there someone who’s not going to be very happy to have me hanging out here for a few days? I don’t want to be the cause of any domestic spats here, man.” 

“No, no girlfriend at present, Chief. I pretty much like keeping myself to myself. Tried marriage once, didn’t work out. We were better as friends than husband and wife, and that’s how I prefer it. How about you?” he continued, turning the question back on Sandburg. “I know Ella’s just a good friend, but you must have hordes of pretty co-eds chasing after you.” 

Now it was Blair’s turn to blush, as he mumbled, “It’s not like that, Jim. Whatever you might believe about teachers, I don’t take advantage of students like that. I mean, I do date as much as I can, but not with my students. It’s not ethical, man.” 

“OK. Sorry about that, Sandburg. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jim replied soothingly, relieved when the smaller man flashed him a forgiving grin. 

“So,” he continued, “we’re both unattached, for the time being, at least. Which leads me to the next subject I’d like to talk over with you. Are you ready to hear what I have to say?” and he fixed Blair with a steady gaze as he sat down opposite his guest and hopefully soon-to-be flatmate. 

Sobering immediately, Blair knew it was crunch time, and mentally tried to prepare himself for what was sure to be a heavy discussion. 

“I guess so, man. I mean, I knew there was more to your offer of shelter than pure altruism, even though I figure you for an honest man. For a cop, that is,” and he offered Jim a rueful grin, peering up at him from beneath long lashes, his big blue eyes both sorrowful and pleading for understanding. 

“Don’t take offence, man, but my mom Naomi taught me to be wary of the pigs – her word, not mine. See, she’s something else, my mom. Genuine flower child. Travels the world searching endlessly for spiritual enlightenment and love, and embracing good causes everywhere, and she’s crossed swords figuratively speaking with cops on many occasions. She doesn’t trust what she calls ‘jack-booted fascists’, and after yesterday, I understand what she means.” 

Although he actually did feel affronted, Jim honestly couldn’t argue with Sandburg’s statement, and cursed the ignorant ‘phobes at the 14th for poisoning his proposition even before he could make it. However, before he could respond, Blair continued; his expression and body language reminiscent of a prisoner about to face sentencing, which in effect, he was. 

“So, Jim, I guess I’m here because you think you’re a Sentinel, and you want me to help you to deal with it, yes?” and at Jim’s grim nod of assent he resumed, his expression pensive. 

“I think the best thing I can do is to give you some background about myself and a general explanation of what being a Sentinel entails, then start looking at how it applies to you personally, OK? It could take a while, so please be patient, man. There’s no ‘instant fix’, and before you ask, I don’t think you can just turn them off at will. And you shouldn’t want to, man. With practice they could be hugely beneficial to you in your job. You’d be a walking, organic crime lab, able to detect far more at a crime scene than any forensic team. Shit, Jim, if I’d have met you just a year ago, you’d have been my Holy Grail! I so wanted to find a full, modern Sentinel on which to base my dissertation, but I couldn’t find one. That’s why I’ve just submitted a paper on shamanism instead. 

“Anyhow, first things first. Have you read much about Sentinels, Jim? I don’t want to repeat myself if you already have a background knowledge.” 

“I wouldn’t call it that, Chief,” Jim replied thoughtfully. “It was one of my colleagues who came up with the suggestion just a few days ago. I just thought I was going crazy, as the docs couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Anyway, she pulled up a few articles off the web, and pointed me in your direction. I pulled up your Master’s thesis, and skimmed through that, but I can’t say I had time to read it in detail. But it was enough for me to want to seek you out, Blair, which is why I was at the market yesterday. And I think you already know how much you just being here is helping me.” 

“OK, man. I hear you, although I don’t think we should read too much into that for now, OK? So, we’ll take it from the top, and if I need to clarify anything, just tell me,” and he fell automatically into ‘teacher mode’, and began what would perhaps turn out to be the most important lecture of his young life. 

“First of all, man, what you have is a perfectly natural genetic advantage. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re a freak, because that is most definitely not true. Tribal Sentinels are highly esteemed by their people, who guard them jealously from outsiders. They’re not just watchmen, Jim. They’re protectors, superb hunters and trackers, organic weather forecasters and so much more. The indigenous pair I was lucky enough to study a few years ago when I was researching my Master’s thesis were awesome, Jim! And I’m convinced that the companion, or Guide, if you prefer, was genetically compatible with his Sentinel. The Sentinel, Tomas, told me quite assuredly that he would cease to function as a sentinel if something should happen to his partner. In fact, he stated that he couldn’t live without him, and wouldn’t want to. 

“Having said that, later on I was told that a Sentinel could function on a certain level with practice and guidance from someone knowledgeable enough in a companion’s duties, although he –or she – would never reach their full potential until they met their true Guide. Which kind of sucks, don’t you think? 

“Anyhow, when I was on an expedition in Peru last year, I was lucky enough to spend some time with a tribe called the Chopec. They didn’t have a sentinel and guide pair at the time, but their shaman, Incacha, told me that they had found a Sentinel a few years previously. They called him ‘Enqueri’, and said he had come upon them by chance. He didn’t find a suitable companion, so Incacha stood in as a temporary guide and teacher until the man left again. Apparently he was an American soldier…Jim? Jim? Are you OK?” 

Blair’s voice rose in agitation as he suddenly noticed the change in Jim’s demeanour. Jim’s face had turned pasty white during Blair’s recitation, and his eyes stared unseeingly ahead of him. Disregarding his aches and pains, Blair pushed away from his seat on the sofa and knelt in front of the silent man, his hands resting on Jim’s knees as he peered up into the unfocussed ice blue eyes. 

“Jim, man. Please come back. Listen to my voice, Jim. Come on, Big Guy, don’t do this to me!” 

For long moments, Jim remained unresponsive. Although not technically zoned, he fought valiantly to make sense of the myriad images and flashes of memory rattling and swirling around in his brain, forced to the surface of his consciousness by Blair’s words. Almost overwhelmed by the onslaught, he grasped gratefully onto the honeyed voice calling him back from the abyss, and slowly his eyes re-focussed on the young face so close to his. And decided that the multi-hued, scabbed and scruffily-bearded visage was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Taking a deep and shaky breath, he patted one of the smaller hands resting on his thighs as he muttered, “It’s OK, Chief. I’m back. But I have to show you something. Something I’d forgotten all about…” and he slowly rose to his feet to make his way up the stairs to his bedroom, leaving a very perplexed Sandburg following his progress with anxious eyes. 

Opening a drawer in his nightstand, Jim drew out an old magazine, long forgotten and pushed to the back. Glancing at it with a thin-lipped frown, he paused for a moment before straightening his shoulders determinedly and descending to re-join Sandburg. 

Holding the magazine out for Sandburg to take, he muttered, “Here you go, Chief. I don’t have any explanations, can’t even understand how I could have forgotten it, but I think this’ll interest you,” and he sat down again, waiting nervously for Blair’s reaction. 

Instantly enthralled, Blair gazed at the old copy of ‘Life’ magazine in his hands. The front cover showed a picture of a man in partial uniform, his grim face smudged with camouflage paint, and hair covered by a bandana. Obviously taken in a jungle setting, the impressive torso was showcased by a sweat-stained sleeveless undershirt, but it was also obvious to the discerning reader that the scene was far from contrived. The pain in the cold, ice blue eyes was that of a man pushed to the limits of his endurance, but still functioning nevertheless. A man determined to carry out his duty until either death or relief arrived. And Blair recognised him, and recalled the story. 

Looking up to meet Jim’s gaze, Blair’s expression was awed as he murmured, “Oh, man! I remember now. This is you, isn’t it? You were the sole survivor of a covert ops mission to Peru. When you were found, you’d been helping the locals defend the Chopec pass for over a year. Oh, man. You’re the one Incacha told me about, aren’t you? You’re Enqueri.” 

“Guilty as charged – I think!” Jim murmured wryly. “To be honest, Chief, I’m pretty shaken up about all this. See, that last mission was tough. So much so that even now I don’t like to think about it. I buried all my men, and then I guess the Chopec must have found me. I know I was injured, and they nursed me back to health, but the whole episode was so traumatic that I buried it deep down inside. By the time I was repatriated to the US, I was a head case, and I couldn’t wait to get out. I resigned my commission, and came back to Cascade to join the PD. But when you began to talk, you must have triggered something, and now I’m getting flashes of memories. Memories of being able to do things I shouldn’t have been able to do. 

“So maybe I was using the senses then, and managed to suppress them when I got back to ‘civilisation’,” and at this last his tone turned derisive as he grimaced in self-mockery. 

“Well shit, Jim,” Blair breathed. “No wonder you repressed everything. I’m just awed and amazed that you came out of it all with a measure of sanity!” 

“Who says I did, Chief?” Jim snickered before growing thoughtful again. “But whatever the case, how amazing is that that we should both meet Incacha? I recall now that he told me I’d find my real Guide in Cascade, only he called it the Great City. I would be the Sentinel of the Great City, but only once I met my Guide. And that Guide would also be a shaman. 

“Are you my Guide, Blair?” and he fixed the young man with a measured gaze. 

Backing away awkwardly to resume his seat on the sofa, Blair regarded him with a wide-eyed stare, reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. “Oh, man! Too heavy! I can’t get my head round this yet. I…I…it’s too much to take in, Jim,” and he held his hands up in a warding gesture when Jim made to reach for him. 

“No, man. Let me be for a while, please? I need to think,” and Jim was upset to see the shock and even fear on the young face as the slender frame was wracked by tremors. Automatically stretching out with his senses to scan the smaller body, he heard the galloping heartbeat thundering in his ears even as he smelled what he could only categorise as distress rolling off Sandburg in waves. Guilt washed over him as he realised what a weighty burden he had just dropped on Sandburg’s shoulders so unexpectedly. Backing off, he resolutely quashed his own desires in order to allow the other man the space he needed. 

“It’s OK, Sandburg. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. I had no idea that this was going to happen, even if I was hoping that you’d be able to help me in some way. Or maybe part of me did. Maybe that’s why I feel such a strong need to protect you? Look, it’s getting late, and I think we could both do with an early night. Maybe in the morning things’ll seem clearer?” 

“Yeah, um…OK, Jim. I…I guess that’s the best way to go,” and Blair’s eyes slid towards the small room under the stairs which Jim had prepared for him, plainly looking for a temporary escape route. 

Nodding in understanding, Jim helped Blair to his feet, and supported him as he visited the bathroom again to take care of business. Although physically Blair already felt much stronger than earlier, the shock of their conversation had shaken him up again, so he was grateful for the bigger man’s help. Once tucked up in bed, he turned troubled eyes towards Jim, knowing that they both had a lot of thinking to do. 

“Thanks, Jim. For the hospitality, anyway, man. See you in the morning.” 

“You got it, Chief. Sleep well,” murmured Jim, even though the likelihood of that happening was small. He closed the French door softly behind him, leaving a desperately perturbed young man alone with his thoughts. After making a couple of phone calls, he made his way up to his own bed, reflecting ruefully that neither of them would be getting much quality rest that night.  


\-----------------------------------  


**Thursday morning:**  


By 6.30 am the following morning, Jim decided that he might as well get up, because it was highly unlikely he’d be getting any more genuine sleep. Although he’d managed to doze intermittently during the night, he had been constantly disturbed by troubled dreams and flashes of long-repressed memories even harking back to his childhood. It was almost as if the lid had been lifted from the Pandora’s Box of his mind, and he could no longer hide from his past. He recalled his father’s reactions to claims the young Jim had made, and found that the pain of those words still had the power to hurt him. He had been called a liar and a freak of nature because he had seen and heard things that no one else should have been able to, and looking back, the adult Jim realised that he must have deliberately suppressed his unwanted ‘gift’ in order to placate his strict parent. Not that it had succeeded to any great extent. His father had managed to drive him away from his home anyway, and Jim still had no desire to build bridges with either his father or his younger brother. 

Not only that, but he was remembering more about his time with the Chopec, and his discussions with Incacha in particular, and it wasn’t easing his conscience any as far as Blair was concerned. Although Jim recalled his own scepticism at the time, he also realised that the Chopec shaman had had the right of it when he had described how Jim would know his true Guide. His primal Sentinel would recognise his chosen companion as soon as he saw him, and that was exactly what had happened at the market. It was the only explanation for his weird reactions and instinctive urges towards Sandburg even though the so-called ‘civilised’ part of Jim wanted to deny it. 

Sighing in irritation, Jim shoved the troublesome thoughts aside as he visited the bathroom then went to the kitchen to put coffee on. He puttered around, busying himself with gathering the fixings for breakfast and finding comfort in the mundane task. He decided that Sandburg would probably want something other than eggs this morning, so checked on his supplies of yoghurt, pancake mix and oatmeal, none of which should be too painful for Blair to manage. Pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, he sat down to listen for sounds of movement from the small bedroom, part of him anxiously anticipating what would likely be an awkward start to the day. 

Although he knew Blair was still sleeping soundly, it certainly hadn’t been for any length of time. Listening in unashamedly from his bedroom above, Jim knew the younger man had been as restless and disturbed as himself for much of the night; at one point his muttering and thrashing warning Jim that a full-scale nightmare was in the offing. Trotting downstairs, feeling both protective and a little silly, Jim had slipped into the young man’s room and gently stroked one blanket-covered knee as he murmured softly and placed a gentle hand on the heated forehead. And amazingly, Blair had quieted immediately without truly waking, turning his face into Jim’s touch and slipping back into a more restful sleep. The simple trust in his reaction brought a lump of emotion to Jim’s throat, and Jim wanted nothing more than to slip into bed alongside his new flatmate, but instead he rose to his feet and returned reluctantly to his own room. It was far too soon to be pushing himself onto the fragile younger man. Sandburg had enough on his plate already without introducing a physical element also, even if he wasn’t actually averse to the idea. 

Before long, rustlings and murmured imprecations warned Jim that his guest was awake at last, but he fought down his impulse to rush over to the small bedroom to offer assistance until he felt it was needed or welcomed. He was determined to give Sandburg as much space as possible this morning, at least until he established the younger man’s current state of mind. Soon the French door cracked open, and Jim watched quietly as a dishevelled scarecrow shuffled out, heading slowly towards the bathroom. Although he empathised greatly with the smaller man’s obvious discomfort, Jim couldn’t quite restrain the small smirk that tugged at his lips at the apparition. Blair’s hair was sticking out from his head at all angles where it had escaped the ponytail at his nape, and a couple of days’ worth of heavy beard growth did nothing to hide the spectacular patchwork of colours and scabs covering most of the left hand side of his face. With one arm wrapped protectively around his torso, and the other hand steadying Blair’s progress by brushing against the wall, the hunched figure made it to the bathroom door, and pushed inside. 

Jim knew he ought to allow Sandburg some privacy, but quelled his guilty feelings about eavesdropping by telling himself that he needed to make sure the young man was OK. The last thing Sandburg needed was an accidental tumble. He therefore listened in carefully, monitoring every gasp, stifled moan and almost sub-vocal curse as Blair took care of business and washed his hands. However, Jim’s heart clenched in sympathy as he heard Blair’s muted voice as he apparently addressed his reflection in the mirror above the hand basin. 

“Goddess! Your hair’s disgusting, Sandburg. And you stink! Geez, if I can smell me this much, what the hell must it be like for Jim? I must smell like walking toxic waste to a Sentinel! And you’ve certainly looked better. Don’t think you’ll be dating again any time soon unless it’s ‘Bride of Frankenstein’. What wouldn’t I give to be able to shave, shower and wash my hair, but I don’t think I can manage it on my own. 

“I shouldn’t be here. I need to be in my own place where it doesn’t matter so much if I can’t clean up properly. I should go home and see if I can get hold of Naomi. She could look after me. Maybe…. Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that, kiddo! Gotta find her first.” 

Jim had heard enough, and rose to his feet, determined to offer his help even if Sandburg couldn’t bring himself to ask for it. The young man would feel so much better if he was clean and fed, and more able to cope with whatever the day threw at him. Because later that morning Simon was coming around to take Blair’s statement. He had agreed with Jim that Sandburg wasn’t up to a trip to the station, so offered to take care of it himself. And he’d also told Jim last night over the phone that he intended to send Conner to Blair’s unit to pick up some more clean clothes and personal items for Blair’s stay. And of course Jim hadn’t told him that as far as he was concerned, Sandburg’s ‘stay’ at the loft would be permanent if he had anything to do with it. Time enough for his boss to get to grips with that little bombshell once he’d convinced Blair of his intentions. 

Moving quickly over to the bathroom, Jim knocked on the door before carefully opening it. 

“Hey, Chief. Good morning. How’re you feeling?” 

“Um, hey Jim. Um, better, I think. At least, I can move some without falling over or my head falling off, so I guess that’s an improvement, huh?” and Blair blushed furiously, plainly embarrassed by his person, and agitated about the impression he must be making on Jim. 

“All good to know, Chief. But I was thinking, I’ll bet you’ll be much more comfortable if you take a bath. A good soak in the tub’ll help with your aches and pains, and I think it’s a safer option than trying to shower yet. And I can help you wash your hair if you’d like. How about it?” and he gazed expectantly at the smaller man, whose face was wrinkled in consternation. 

He could tell by the emotions chasing across the mobile features that denial and self-consciousness were warring with desire, so he pushed his advantage. “It’s no trouble, Chief. I’ve had to do far worse in the army than help someone wash and shave, and I’d like to do it for you. And as Simon’s coming around later to take your statement, I’m sure you’ll feel better for being clean and fresh.” 

Desire won out, and Blair nodded gratefully, even though the blush had spread from neck to hairline. 

“If you’re really sure, man, that would be wonderful. Especially as I must be really ripe to a sentinel-sensitive nose, huh? But it really is over and above, man. I didn’t expect you to wait on me like this.” 

“Like I said, Junior, it’s no trouble, and I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Now, let’s get this tub filled, and I’ll get you shaved, OK?”  


\-----------------------------------  


Some while later Blair was seated at the breakfast table enjoying a meal of oatmeal liberally drizzled with honey. He looked one hundred per cent better, and was dressed in clean boxers and tee, wrapped in Jim’s spare robe. It was way too big for him, and gave him an endearing waif-like appearance, but all in all he was a far cry from the crumpled vision from earlier. Clean shaven once again, thanks to Jim’s sentinel-sensitive touch, his still damp but squeaky clean locks were pulled back into a neat ponytail at his nape. The warm water had indeed helped loosen his stiff and aching muscles, and Jim’s exquisitely careful ministrations had washed his hair and body without wetting his stitches or causing him undue pain. Secretly he was glad that he was still too sore to react to Jim in any embarrassing way, as he had to admit that the gentle hair washing in particular was nothing if not erotic, and he had even fantasised for a moment or two about how it would feel if Jim were doing it for their mutual pleasure. He had no idea that Jim had been restraining himself from making his actions more stimulating only through an enormous act of will, since it never occurred to him that a man like Jim could possibly find him attractive. All he knew was that they were much easier with each other for the moment, and even though a continuation of their difficult discussion was inevitable, Blair was happy to make the most of this peaceful interlude. 

However, their brief respite was soon interrupted by the arrival of Simon to take Blair’s statement, and real life crashed in on Blair once again as he relived his ordeal for the tape recorder the captain had brought with him. 

Introduced properly to the young man, Simon had been impressed by Sandburg’s calm and polite demeanour even as he commiserated with him over the physical evidence of the vicious attack. However, he withheld his judgement regarding the man’s character for the time being until Jim decided to enlighten him on what exactly the young academic’s contribution to curing his man’s ‘condition’ would be. For all Simon knew, Sandburg might be playing Jim for a fool, his only intention being to take advantage of Jim’s generosity to establish a cosy billet for himself in the loft. But all cynicism aside, for now it was enough to try and get justice for this victim of an unwarranted assault, as well as attempting to put an end to the creeping evil permeating the ranks of some of Cascade’s uniformed officers. 

By the time the interview was done, Blair looked visibly shaken, and his face was pale and drawn both from reawakened bodily aches and equally painful memories. However, he remained calm and bore his discomforts with remarkable stoicism, earning himself a measure of respect from both Jim and Simon. 

Pocketing the tape recorder, Simon rose to his feet, holding out his hand to Blair as he offered the young man a polite and sympathetic smile. “Thank you for your time, Mr Sandburg. Don’t get up. Jim can see me out.” Then, turning to Jim, he glanced quickly towards the door, his face and expression indicating that he wanted a private word with his detective and friend. 

Taking the hint, Jim replied casually, “Thanks for coming down, Simon. I know we both appreciate it. I’ll see you to the door, OK?” and the pair moved off, pausing just inside the hallway. 

Blair guessed that they wanted to talk cop business, and wasn’t offended. He simply leaned his aching head against the sofa back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he sought his centre. However, he had little time to relax, as just then a slight commotion outside announced the arrival of Megan Conner, hot-foot from visiting Blair’s apartment. And what she had to report shocked all of them. 

After a few minutes’ heated but hushed discussion, all three re-entered the loft and moved over to stand somewhat awkwardly in front of where Blair was seated, causing him to crack open an eye to check out what was going on. Seeing the troubled expressions on all three faces, he roused abruptly and pushed himself carefully into a more upright position, his own brow wrinkling in consternation. As Jim squatted down to place a comforting and supportive hand on Blair’s knee, Blair glanced quizzically from one to the other, noting the shared anger that was almost palpable. However, none of it seemed to be directed at him, and although Captain Banks’ expression was pure aggravation, Jim and Megan’s eyes also reflected real concern. 

“What is it? Is there something wrong? Something I’ve done?” he murmured nervously. 

It was Megan who replied first, cutting in on whatever reassuring words Jim was about to make. 

“I’m so sorry Blair, but I’ve got some bad news. You see, when I went around to your place to pick up some things for you, I ran into your sleaze-bag of a landlord. To tell the truth, he looked scared shitless and bloody angry too, and he told me to tell you that you had until the weekend to clear your stuff out. Not just you either. All the other tenants have had notice to quit. Apparently City Hall’s slapped him with a notice condemning his building for all sorts of health and safety reasons, and until he fixes it up, everyone has to go. 

“Anyhow, I gathered up everything of yours that I could that looked personal, and put in my car. You’ll have to go through it and see if I’ve missed anything, but it’s the best I could do. I’m sorry, love,” and she squeezed his shoulder gently. 

For a moment Blair was completely shell-shocked and gazed at Conner in open-mouthed disbelief. 

“Hey, Chief, you OK? Say something, Blair,” Jim’s gentle but worried words roused him, and he shut his mouth with an audible snap as a frown creased his brow. 

Staring at the floor in front of him for a few moments to assemble his racing thoughts, he finally looked up and met each of the other’s eyes in turn, ending up with Jim. Voice and expression rueful but resigned, he said, “It’s OK, Jim. Don’t worry about me. At least, not because I liked the place any. I mean, it was cheap, which is why I chose it, but I had no illusions that it was any great shakes. I guess it was only a matter of time before all the faults got reported, huh? 

“Then again,” he continued, looking thoughtful, “There are a lot worse places in this city which haven’t been condemned. I wonder who Mr Bridges pissed off enough for someone to actually notice him and take action? As far as I know he’s got another couple of buildings equally as bad. Wonder if those have been condemned also?” 

“I’ve no idea, Sandy,” responded Megan, the nickname coming easily to her. “If you like I could look into it for you, but it won’t get your place back.” 

It was Simon who answered her, his own expression suspicious. “Good idea, Conner. I’m thinking that this is just a little too pat for mere coincidence.” Then, turning to study Blair, he added, “It would seem that you’ve either got several people gunning for you, Mr Sandburg, or you’re having a very unlucky spell. I’m going back to the PD now to start processing your statement, and will get back to you. We shouldn’t have any problem with the assault charge against Wallace’s scumbags, especially as there were several witnesses, including Jim here, but the accusations against the patrolmen will be harder to move on. They’ll have closed ranks, so it’ll be difficult to pin anything on them, but I won’t give up trying. We just need a whistle-blower to come out of hiding!” and he chuckled sardonically as he took his leave once again, leaving a bemused trio in his wake. 

Shaking himself out of his temporary funk, Blair turned again to Megan. “Thanks, Inspector. For going to all that trouble for me. It was really good of you to collect my things together.” 

“No worries, Sandy. And call me Megan, OK? It’s not like you have much anyhow. There are just a few boxes, is all.” 

Blair grinned wryly. “Yeah, I know. I lost most of my stuff when my last place blew up, but it’s nothing I’m not used to. Not having much, that is. Mom and I always travelled light because we moved around so much. It’s only been the last few years I’ve started to collect more stuff, and Naomi certainly wouldn’t approve. 

“Anyway, most of my books and papers and my favourite artefacts are in my office at the U or in my backpack in my car. And my laptop’s there also. That’s the most important thing. It should be safe enough parked behind Ella’s shop.” 

It was a brave attempt at nonchalance, but neither Jim nor Megan was fooled, and they both felt his pain even if they took care not to show it for fear of upsetting him even more. 

Turning back to Jim, Blair blushed again as he asked anxiously, “Um, it looks like I’m going to be homeless for a few days after all, Jim. Can you put up with me until I can get out and find somewhere else? I mean, all being well I should be out of your hair in a week. Two at most…” and he tailed off in embarrassment, plainly hating to have to ask for such a favour. 

On the other hand, Jim couldn’t have been more pleased, although he deliberately hid the fact from the other two. Now he had the perfect excuse to build on to persuade Blair to stay with him at the loft, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. 

“It’s no problem, Chief. I’ll help Megan move your stuff up here into the spare room. There’s plenty of storage space in the basement also if we need it, and as for your car, I forgot to tell you that I spoke to Ella on the phone last night, and she said she’d drive your car over here later today. Maddie is going to follow on in their car, and they’re both looking forward to seeing you.” 

Brightening immediately, Blair spoke fervently in response to Jim’s offer. “Thanks Jim. I’m sorry you’re going to be stuck with me for a bit longer, but I truly appreciate it, man. And it’ll be great to see Ella and Maddie. I was so worried what the shock of the attack might do to Ella, even though I know she’s no pushover.” 

“From what I saw of her, I can believe that, Chief. She was more concerned for you than for herself. 

“Anyhow, Conner, shall we go and get that stuff from your car?” and with that the two detectives rose to their feet and with a shared grin, left the loft to do just that.  


\----------------------------------  


**That afternoon:**  


Blair sat back against the sofa cushions, the unmarred portions of his face a pasty white, and his eyelids drooping. In truth, he felt awful, and was having the greatest difficulty in keeping his eyes open. He was hazily aware that Jim had crouched down in front of him again, and forced a slight grin, hoping to alleviate the concern on the big man’s handsome face. He should have known better than to try and fool a Sentinel, though, and Jim was having none of it. 

“You’re exhausted, Chief. Why don’t you go and have a nap before dinner? It’s been a hectic day, and you nearly fell asleep in your soup at lunchtime. Come on, I’ll help you up,” and he extended his hand to do just that. 

For a second, Blair just looked at it dazedly, then visibly shook himself. “Sorry, man. I’m not usually like this. I can’t understand it. You’d think that with all the rest I’ve been getting these last couple of days, I’d be full of energy.” 

“That’s what shock and physical assault will do for you, Junior. It’s nothing to do with ‘normal’, but everything to do with how the body copes with stress. And right now, rest is the best thing for you. Come and lie down in your room, and I’ll bring your meds in for you. A couple of hours’ nap will do you the world of good.” 

Blair gazed at him for a moment or two, his expression both quizzical and soft. “Thanks man. I’m sorry if I come over as ungrateful at all. Because I’m definitely not, I promise you. It’s just that, well, I’m not used to having anyone look after me. It feels odd. Wrong, somehow. As if I should be doing for myself. 

“And I don’t want to out-stay my welcome,” he finished quietly, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I know I’m hard to deal with for any length of time. Too mouthy and messy,” and he raised apologetic eyes to meet Jim’s again. 

For a moment, Jim was nonplussed, then he reached out with both hands and tenderly cupped Blair’s face, and to hell with it if the action could be construed as overly familiar. He just wanted to get his point across once and for all. 

“Stop that, Blair. Get this through your head, Chief. I _want_ you here, and I _don’t_ mind looking after you. I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t feel it was right, and the feeling is even stronger now. Blame it on the Sentinel stuff if you want. And OK, we haven’t finished discussing our options yet, I know, and like as not we’ll both have some readjusting to do, but for now, just let me do my thing, OK?” 

And Blair had neither the desire nor the energy to argue for once, so he nodded carefully in deference to his aching head. “OK, Jim. And thanks again. I guess sleep sounds good right now,” and he allowed himself to be helped to his feet and guided back to the small bedroom, which was already taking on his unique identity, thanks to the personal items Jim and Megan had unpacked and placed in there for him earlier on. 

Once Blair was settled and sleeping soundly again, Jim returned to the kitchen and snagged a beer from the refrigerator before settling on the sofa in front of the TV. Turning the volume right down so it wouldn’t disturb the sleeping man, although he could still hear quite adequately; Jim found a Jags replay on the sports channel, and tried to watch, even though his concentration was elsewhere. 

He knew he should feel strange on account of how much his quiet life had been disrupted over the last few days, but it felt natural and right somehow. In no time at all, Blair had become a part of his existence, and the Sentinel within already couldn’t contemplate a future without him. All Jim’s senses revelled in the smaller man’s proximity, and the desire to protect and possess was strong and growing stronger. But even if Jim could convince the ‘protectee’ that his rightful place was here at the loft and at Jim’s side, he had absolutely no idea as to how that could be managed. Simon was going to have a fit when faced with Jim’s request for Blair to ride with him – presuming the young man was up for the idea – and besides, Blair had his own responsibilities at Rainier. 

After all, if all went to plan, he would soon receive his doctorate, and why would a brilliant teacher like Blair turn down the chance of tenure? Shaking his head at the grim notion, Jim turned his attention to more pleasant thoughts, recalling the visit by Ella and her partner Maddie just before lunch.  


\-------------------------------  


Megan had just returned to the PD, and Blair was still somewhat overwhelmed with the appearance of his personal things when Jim had cocked his head and moved to the door. He glanced over at the smaller man, who was now dressed in his own clean and comfortable clothing, grinning a little in approval at the sight as he said, “Sorry, Chief, but I think we have more visitors. I can hear three heart beats – one faster and quieter – so I think it’s Ella and Maddie. You up to seeing them?” 

“Wow, man, you can tell that from here? That’s amazing, Jim! We need to do some tests to see just how far your range is! But yeah, of course I’d like to see them. That is, if you don’t mind?” he finished, a little uncertainly. 

He was greatly relieved when Jim replied, “Of course I don’t mind, Chief. They’re your friends, and I’d kind of like to meet Ella under different circumstances,” and he opened the door at their first knock, not wanting to startle them by jumping the gun and pre-empting their request for admission. 

Ella was the first over the threshold, and as the pretty blonde glanced quickly from Jim to Maddie and back, she placed a hand on her protruding belly and said with a grin, “Hey, Detective Ellison. I’m glad you have an elevator in this building. I don’t think I could have managed the stairs with the lump here! Maddie would’ve had to carry me!” 

Jim’s face broke out into an answering smile. “Well, I’m glad it was working, then. It doesn’t always, even though we’re always complaining about it. Come on in,” and he stood back to allow both young women to enter. 

Although she was already looking towards where a grinning Blair sat on the sofa, Ella said, “Let me introduce Maddie, Detective. The love of my life,” and the two women exchanged an affectionate look. 

“Pleased to meet you, Detective Ellison,” and the slender brunette held out her hand to Jim. 

“Likewise, Maddie. But please call me Jim,” and Jim offered her one of his best smiles, which elicited a similar response from the young woman. 

“OK, Jim. And thanks for taking care of Blair for us. Ella told me what you’d done for him,” and she peered around Jim to watch her partner as she lowered herself carefully onto the seat next to the battered young man. The young face registered her concern at her first view of Blair, although she did her best to smile as she approached the pair. 

Jim decided to give the friends some space, so he went to the kitchen to put on fresh coffee. “Can I get you something to drink, ladies? And Blair, of course. Coffee, tea?” 

“I’d love a coffee, Jim,” replied Maddie, “And Ella’ll have water or juice, please,” she hurried on, frowning at her lover before she could respond. “You know you’re not supposed to have caffeine yet, hon. Wait until the sprog arrives, OK?” 

Blair spluttered in astonished glee. “Sprog? _Sprog?_ Where on earth did you get that from?” and he looked from one to the other, eyebrow quirked inquisitively. 

Ella’s grin broadened wickedly as she explained, “We were watching this old black and white war movie on TV. It was one of those British ones, all about the Battle of Britain fighter pilots. They all had really posh accents, you know? And this one was talking to his very pregnant young wife, and she said, ‘You have to come back safely, Johnny! I’m going to drop the sprog very soon now!’ We thought it was a hoot!” 

Blair was trying really hard not to laugh because of the pain in his ribs, but he couldn’t help grinning widely and snickering at Ella’s perfect rendition of the plummy British accent. 

“Goddess, Ella, you slay me! But seriously, thank you so much for bringing my car over. I really appreciate it, hon,” 

“It’s no trouble, sweetie. You’d do the same for us. And I’m glad that Jim’s taking such good care of you. But if you need it later, you can stay with us until you find a new place. We heard about you losing your place through Janice, because another student tenant told her, and you know how fast the Rainier grapevine works.” 

Before Blair could respond, Jim found himself butting in as he carried in the tray of drinks. “Don’t worry about that, ladies. Blair’s welcome to stay as long as he wants. My colleague rescued most of his stuff already, and I’m sure you’ll have your hands full very soon now!” and he grinned and nodded knowingly towards Ella’s distended belly. 

Greatly reassured, the young women smiled back at him, although Jim noticed that Blair’s own answering smile was a little strained. Changing the subject, he placed the tray on the coffee table and said, “So, how did you all meet?” and was highly entertained over the next hour as the conversation progressed, all of them relaxing and enjoying each other’s company despite their very different backgrounds. 

Soon, however, it was obvious that Blair was wilting rapidly, and the young women rose to go. Hugging him gently, they both admonished him to take things easy and look after himself, while promising to keep in touch about the baby. Thanking Jim for his hospitality, they left the pair alone to their own devices once again. 

Taking stock of Blair’s condition, Jim had prepared a quick lunch of chicken soup, and managed to coax a reasonable amount into his new flatmate before helping him back to the sofa to relax.  


\----------------------------------  


With a start, Jim realised that the game had finished, and also that he hadn’t taken it in at all, thanks to his wandering thoughts. Casting out his hearing effortlessly, he monitored the soft susurrations of Blair’s sleeping breaths, and decided that it was a good time to check in with Simon at the PD. Picking up the cordless handset, he moved to the balcony to make his call, not wanting to disturb the slumbering man. Cascade’s weather was still being kind, so he settled on one of the recliners as he dialled his captain’s number. 

“Banks!” Simon’s usual brusque greeting resounded in his ear. Grinning wryly, Jim replied with more restraint. 

“Hey, Captain. It’s Jim. I wondered if you had any updates on Blair’s assault. Does he have anything to worry about?” 

“Hey, Jim. I was going to call you later. Yeah, there’re some developments that won’t please you too much. The two assholes who attacked Sandburg are out on bail. Apparently Wallace stood surety for them, and as they have no priors on record, the judge let them go along with the other protestors. They’d be crazy if they were to try and take their revenge on the kid, but with morons like that, you never know what they’re thinking, so I guess he’ll have to watch his back until they’re brought to trial. 

“As far as the behaviour of the uniforms is concerned, there have been some complaints from some of the stallholders and shoppers who got caught up in the mess, but there’s nothing concrete to charge them with except perhaps incompetence and inept policework. Only Sandburg actually heard anything that can be construed as malicious intent, and to be honest, it’s anyone’s guess if a judge would take him seriously.” 

Hearing the furious spluttering that greeted his comments, Simon ploughed on regardless. 

“Come on, Jim! You know what I mean! Be honest with yourself, man. If it wasn’t for this strange attraction you seem to have developed for Sandburg, you’d see him the same way I do. He’s hardly the epitome of a sober, upstanding citizen looking the way he does, is he? OK, he seems like a nice guy. He has a good rep at the U, and I’m sure he’s honest if you’re vouching for him, but one look at that hair and the earrings and you know how some of the more conservative judges will react! Like they’ll be inclined to take the word of a pretty, hippy wannabe against that of Cascade’s finest even if he is nearly a professor! I don’t think so, and if you’re truthful with yourself, you’d accept that you’d probably think the same thing. There’s no love lost between a large proportion of naïve academics and the force as you well know. Cops being the instruments of oppression and all that counter-culture crap! 

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, and God knows I don’t like it, but that’s the state of play at the moment. We need more proof, Jim. More evidence than Sandburg can supply us with. So far, it’s just hearsay.” 

Swallowing down his anger and disappointment, Jim was silent for long moments. In his heart of hearts he could understand where his boss was coming from. Hell, he even admitted that the man was probably right about what Jim’s normal reactions would be under similar circumstances where anyone but Blair was involved. But that didn’t make it right, and sure didn’t make him feel any better about himself. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he finally replied. 

“OK, Simon, I hear you. But I still intend to keep Sandburg here for as long as I can. Whether or not either case progresses, I think he’s still in danger of retribution, and I can’t allow that. I have plenty of leave due, so I’d like to take the rest of this week at least, OK? By Monday, Blair will be better able to take care of himself, so I should be able to come back to work. I’m sorry to land this on you, Captain, but I think it’s the right thing to do.” 

Simon’s sigh was audible as was the frustration and resignation in his tone as he answered. 

“I was expecting as much, Jim. I don’t like it, but I don’t think my ranting at you will change your mind, so I’m assigning you as Sandburg’s official minder for the next few days at least. Might as well save your leave until you really need it. Come Monday, we’ll reassess the situation, and take it from there. It’s the best I can do, man. I just hope that your faith in this young man is justified.” 

And all Jim could do was to thank Banks for his understanding, especially in the light of the man’s obvious scepticism. He was well aware that most captains would have laughed in his face and called up the men from the funny farm to take him away.  


\---------------------------------  


**Later that night:**  


It was a quiet and reflective Blair who joined Jim for dinner later that evening, the younger man having slept soundly for an hour or two before waking up to the realisation that he and Jim still hadn’t really come to any agreement as to how they should progress their relationship, if such a thing were even possible or desirable. He made an effort to eat as much as he could of the mac and cheese Jim had prepared, grateful for the other man’s efforts to provide him with easily palatable comfort foods. However, he was also guiltily aware that Jim was studying him and monitoring him surreptitiously, and felt badly about his own uncharacteristic reticence. Even though he never revealed more about himself than absolutely necessary, it had never been his way to duck responsibility, but rather to meet problems head on, but this case was so different from anything he’d had to face before. This situation might require a level of commitment he had never before had to give, and he wasn’t at all sure he could do it, having learned the hard way that nothing lasts forever, and that wanting too much only led to pain and disillusion. 

Finally putting down his fork, Blair looked up to meet Jim’s questioning gaze, and broke the awkward silence. 

“Um, thanks for this, Jim. It was really good. I’m sorry to be so miserable – like a death’s head at the feast, huh?” he added in a feeble attempt at black humour. 

“Anyhow, I’ve been thinking about what we were talking about, and I don’t want to put it off any longer, because I don’t think it’s fair to you. To either of us. Although goddess knows I’m scared silly,” and he grinned mirthlessly as he hunched his shoulders, almost as if expecting a blow or angry verbal retaliation at least. 

“It’s OK, Chief. I admit I’m worried also about what direction this talk is likely to take, but I promise I won’t force you in any way. Even if every base instinct in me is calling for me to do just that. I hope I’m still ‘civilised’ enough to be able to give you a fair hearing!” and he offered a self-deprecating smirk intended to put Blair a little more at ease. 

Still worried, but looking slightly more relaxed, Blair accepted a helping hand from Jim as he left the table, to make his way back over to the sofa. 

“Hey, Jim,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little. “I promise I’ll be OK to help you with the chores soon, man. I can pull my weight, honest. And I cook too.” 

“Glad to hear it, kiddo,” came Jim’s wry response. “I’ll look forward to some new recipes. But no hurry, Chief. I just want you to concentrate on healing for the next few days. I called Simon while you were sleeping, and he’s officially assigned me to guard you until Monday, so you can take it easy at least until I have to report back to the PD.” 

“That’s really good of him, Jim. But isn’t it a bit unusual? Unless you know I’m in specific danger, that is. I’m not exactly an exceptional case after all. Just a minor incident within a greater event, however personally offensive to me as an individual. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, man. Not that I regret being there for Ella, though. If those bastards had managed to hurt her and the baby…” and his voice tailed off in disgust and imagined horror. 

Moving over to join him on the sofa, Jim’s expression was both grim and apologetic as he framed his response. 

“I hate to have to say it, but you’re right for the most part, Chief. We wouldn’t normally have the resources to offer protection to every assault victim, even though we’d like to. But Simon’s doing this as a favour to me. I want to be completely up front with you, Blair, and he knows about my ‘problem’. He’s more than a little dubious about what I’ve told him so far about the sentinel angle, but he’s prepared to cut me some slack as far as you’re concerned. 

“Basically, he wants to help me. And if that means keeping you safe and under my protection, then so be it.” 

“Then I suppose I ought to thank him,” Blair murmured sardonically, “even if it doesn’t do much for my ego! I’ll take what I can get.” 

Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a swift but careful one-armed hug. 

“Thanks, Chief. I didn’t want to offend you, but you’re too smart to fall for placatory bullshit, however well-meaning. 

“So, back to the main subject. What have you decided?” 

So Blair told him. 

Before he actually began his explanation, Blair retrieved his precious backpack from where it had been stowed in the small bedroom, and pulled out an old and obviously much-prized tome. Stroking its worn cover, he met Jim’s interested gaze as he handed it over. 

“This is my copy of Sir Richard Burton’s ‘The Sentinels of Paraguay’. It’s very rare, and very dear to me as it stimulated my passion for Sentinels and sentinel lore. I want you to read it, Jim, as it’ll explain a lot about your senses, and hopefully help you to see what a gift they are. If you can bear to, I suggest you also read my thesis on tribal Sentinels, because I like to think that it builds on Burton’s original, and fills in some of the gaps. Particularly the gaps about the Sentinel’s companion,” he added quietly, ducking his head nervously. 

When he raised his eyes again, Jim smiled softly, wanting to reassure his suddenly skittish new friend. “Thank you, Chief. I appreciate the thought, and that you trust me enough to look after this book for you. I’ll read it tonight, and yes, I’d like to read your paper again properly also. I only skimmed through it before, but having said that, I’d like for you to tell me now what you think I ought to know. That I need to understand about what I’m asking of you.” 

Nodding his assent, Blair took a deep breath, and said gamely, “OK Jim. Here goes. 

“We already talked about your abilities, and I think we can safely say that you are a full Sentinel, with all five senses heightened. That you’ve managed to successfully suppress them more than once suggests to me that you’re particularly strong, although without other examples with which to compare you, that’s just my opinion. 

“And I need to assure you that I’m so glad to have found you – or rather, that you found me – because it validates my obsession in the eyes of all those of my peers who thought I was completely nuts to keep looking for a modern Sentinel. Not that I can use you for the study subject of my diss now even if it were ethical or desirable, seeing as I’ve already submitted an alternative. It wouldn’t have been right, as it would have been hard to guarantee your anonymity. I’m guessing that you wouldn’t want all the local bad guys to know you had an edge, huh?” and he snickered softly as he shot Jim a questioning glance. 

“Yeah, you’re right there, Chief, although I hadn’t really thought things through that far yet. I hadn’t really gotten beyond the point of learning to control them, especially as I can’t be sure that I can suppress them again. They seem to be much stronger now. Do you think that’s because Incacha’s prophesy has come to pass? I can no longer turn them off because I’ve found my true Guide?” 

At his words, Blair huffed out a deep sigh, and his expression was almost stricken as he fought to maintain his shaky equilibrium. “I…I don’t know, Jim. I mean, I’m afraid you might be right. Maybe there are certain circumstances where you could still turn them off, but my gut feeling tells me I need to help you – help you learn to use your senses to the full. Help you be all you can be. 

“But I’m so scared, Jim. I can’t believe that we have no choice. No say in the matter. Yes, I’ve always believed in karma, and pre-destination to a certain extent, but I also believe that we have a hand in shaping our own destinies. It’s not just a matter of Fate deciding for us. It can’t be! 

“I’m finally on track, Jim. I’ve almost achieved my goal of a doctorate, and my life’s looking good right now. I love teaching, and I hope to get tenure soon. I can’t just give it up, man. I’ve worked too hard.” 

Noting Jim’s pained expression, he continued quickly, hating to be the cause of the big cop’s distress. 

“Please believe me, Jim, that I’ll gladly help you as much as I can. I won’t leave you to struggle on alone, and I’ll work with you until you find someone who you can work with on a permanent basis. I should warn you that although I might have some theories about what being a Guide entails, I have no practical experience so I’ll be flying by the seat of my pants. Even so, I’m certain we can make this work on a temporary basis. I won’t see you suffer, Jim. I promise. 

“But I can’t envisage being bound to you for life, Jim, much as I admire you. Please don’t ask it of me!” 

Jim could hardly bear to see the beseeching look in the large blue eyes regarding him with such intensity, and no little fear. He was certainly hurt and upset by Blair’s reaction, although the realistic man within had expected as much. It was so much to ask of the young man, and in all honesty Jim knew he ought to be grateful for the level of commitment Blair was prepared to offer. 

Besides, he told himself, as long as he had the young man under his roof, he could keep working on him, so all wasn’t yet lost. Now was not the time to alienate him with anger and reproaches, so he curbed his natural urge to strike out and moderated his answer and attitude accordingly. 

“It’s OK, Blair. I understand. It’s a lot to ask of you, I know, and I don’t have any right to demand such a sacrifice. But if you are sincere in your offer, then I guess I can live with that, and I thank you for it. Let’s play it by ear for the time being, OK? I’m not withdrawing my offer for you to stay with me anyway. In fact, whatever you decide eventually about being my partner, I’d still like you to consider moving in with me permanently as a roommate if nothing else. I would feel happier knowing you had a decent roof over your head, and it would be easier for us both as far as the testing and such is concerned. Will you consider it?” 

Wide-eyed with relief at Jim’s unexpectedly considerate response, and also astonishment at his generous offer, Blair simply nodded slowly before murmuring wonderingly, “Um, that’s really kind of you, man, especially as I’ve just disappointed you. Let me think on it for a while, OK? I mean, I truly appreciate the offer, but I should warn you that most people can’t put up with me for long. So if you change your mind, man, I’ll understand. And I’ll get out of your hair with no hard feelings.” But even as he said it, a tiny but insistent voice inside him whispered that he was lying to himself. Despite his recent panic-stricken response to Jim’s request, he already had feelings for the man, and whether he liked it or not, the fledgling connection was already in place and growing steadily.  


\----------------------------------  


**Monday morning:**  


Jim hovered uncertainly at the open doorway to #307, looking back towards where Blair sat at the kitchen table, nursing a fresh cup of coffee. 

“You’re sure you don’t need anything before I go, Chief? You know where everything is, right?” 

Returning his concerned look with a fond, if slightly exasperated grin, Blair replied, “Go, Jim! I’m fine, honestly! I can move about much better now as you well know, and I’m quite capable of re-heating soup for lunch. Stop worrying, man, and get to work. I’ll be here when you get back!” 

“OK, if you’re sure, Chief. I just feel uncomfortable leaving you, I guess. We haven’t been apart since you arrived, and it feels odd not to have you with me, is all. See you later, then?” 

Blair’s expression softened at his words, and his own reply lacked any element of teasing. 

“I know, man. I can’t understand it myself, but I know what you mean. And considering I’ve been alone most of my life, it’s weird, you know? But it’s not like we’re joined at the hip, and I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied. Be safe out there man, and don’t worry about me, OK?” 

Nodding in resignation, Jim reluctantly exited the loft and closed the door gently behind him, but not before Blair caught his muttered response. “As if that’s possible, Chief….”  


\-----------------------------------  


As he drove towards the PD, Jim couldn’t help but mull over the changes in his lifestyle and attitude, all of which were centred on the young man back home in the loft. For the past few days, ever since he first laid eyes on Sandburg at the Rainbow Market, Jim’s orderly life had been turned on its head, but he couldn’t find if in him to care. And he didn’t really want to analyse the phenomenon in depth anyway in case it threw up too many uncomfortable notions and anomalies that he was unprepared to deal with yet, if at all. All he knew was that having Sandburg under his roof and in his care felt right, and he was going to do his damnedest to make sure Blair got the message. 

As far as Blair’s health was concerned, he was healing fast under Jim’s care, and was already much better than expected considering it had been less than a week since the assault. Although still marred by the green and yellowing discolouration of fading bruising, Blair’s face was vastly improved. The gashes in lip, brow, inner cheek and temple had closed up well, and Jim knew that the stitches would soon be able to be removed, hopefully to leave minimal scarring. He had an appointment with the dentist scheduled for Tuesday morning to cap the chipped molars, after which he would be able to graduate to a normal diet. His cracked ribs still caused him problems – stretching and lifting would be out of the question for a good while yet – but he was moving more easily every day. And Jim knew that a lot of his improvement in that department was due to the daily soaks in the tub which were quickly becoming a habit. Even though Blair suggested diffidently that he was capable of taking a shower now, Jim insisted that the baths were more beneficial, and that he didn’t mind at all acting as back-scrubber and hair-washer. And although both men were careful to play down their physical responses to the inevitable intimacy of the occasion, Jim was smugly certain that he was catching whiffs of arousal from his charge suggesting that the younger man wasn’t entirely indifferent to him. What he didn’t realise was that Blair wasn’t protesting too vociferously as he was also enjoying the attention far too much, and the young man admitted to himself that he was prepared to prolong it for as long as possible so he would have something to remember when he was alone again. Because he was certain that eventually Jim would tire of him once he had gotten control of his senses, a notion that would have shocked the older man to the core if he’d realised then how his Guide’s mind worked, and how low his self-esteem actually was. 

For now unaware of Sandburg’s beliefs, Jim continued on his way to the PD, his mind now turning to their plans for the next few days. 

Blair was determined to go to Rainier on Friday to defend his dissertation as planned, but had taken the rest of the week off as he hadn’t yet been passed as fit to drive, and he had plenty to keep him occupied working from home on his trusty laptop. He also claimed that he didn’t want to appear in front of a classroomful of impressionable students looking like road kill. For the same reason, he had asked Janice to spread the word that he wasn’t up for house calls, although Jim was unaware that Blair also didn’t want to impose on Jim’s hospitality any more than necessary. 

Having said that, on Saturday morning Blair’s friend and mentor, Dr Eli Stoddard had called in, and Jim recalled the unexpected visit with pleasure. The gentle and kind-hearted academic had been noticeably shocked at seeing his young protégé, but Blair had been at pains to stress that he was actually much better than he looked, and was quick to give much of the credit for his rapid recovery to Jim. Stoddard had brought with him a large bag of Get Well cards and messages, and Blair had been visibly touched at his friends’ and colleagues’ kindness. Although Jim had attempted to keep in the background in order to allow the two some privacy, he was subtly but deliberately included in the conversation by both men so that the ensuing visit had been surprisingly convivial. Had he but known it, though, by the time Eli had left, the older man had formed a few ideas of his own, even though he kept them to himself for the time being, not wishing to upset Blair unnecessarily. Eli was well aware of Blair’s obsession with Sentinels, having encouraged his former student to pursue that course of study despite opposition and even ridicule from some of his peers, and he had been more than interested to observe the unconsciously relaxed interaction between Blair and the big cop. It would seem that Blair had found his modern Sentinel after all, but Eli wasn’t sure now whether that was a good or a bad thing even though he had been favourably impressed by Jim Ellison. Despite his sheltered academic life, Eli was no innocent abroad, and he feared for the reception the pair might meet with if the truth got out. He believed it highly unlikely that the contemporary cynical and materialistic Cascade society was capable of accepting such an amazing phenomenon as a working Sentinel and Guide pairing. He decided therefore to keep his own council for the time being, even though he knew he’d always be there for Blair if needed. 

Arriving at the PD, Jim pulled into his usual spot in the underground parking garage, and turned off the engine. He sat for a few moments to gather himself together in preparation for what he suspected would be a somewhat difficult reception in the MCU. He had, after all, done a pretty good job of alienating most of his colleagues since the senses had come online, so he couldn’t in all fairness expect to be welcomed back with open arms. He also hoped that Megan had respected their informal confidential understanding and kept information regarding Sandburg and his presence at the loft to a minimum, but his friends were detectives after all, and good ones at that, so they had probably already worked out that something odd was going on with him. 

At that thought, Jim carefully tested each of his senses, to find that they appeared to be cooperating nicely. However, he didn’t allow himself to be tempted to push too far without Blair at his side, and he intended to keep his promise to the younger man that he wouldn’t use them out in the field alone. For the moment he was just relieved and grateful to find that the method Blair had come up with to control them seemed to be working just fine, and he grinned at the memory of Blair’s shy but insistent words just two days ago. 

“Look, Jim. You’re going to have to learn to control your senses under difficult conditions, especially if you’re working alone. You can’t allow yourself to be taken out of the picture because of a hypersensitive reaction to unexpected stimuli. Um, I had an idea I wanted to run by you. It’s something I just came up with, so don’t expect miracles. But it might just work….” 

The idea that Sandburg had come up with was that Jim should picture each sense as a dial on an old-fashioned radio, with numbers from zero to ten; with zero being ‘off’ altogether and ten the maximum in agony levels. He insisted that Jim should never turn any one sense completely off, especially touch, because a certain amount of pain was necessary to prevent the body from being pushed beyond its limits. At the same time, Jim shouldn’t have to suffer needlessly, so it was important that he be able to turn his sensitivity up and down at will. Jim had been highly sceptical of Blair’s suggestion, but had played along, not wanting to hurt the young man’s feelings, only to find that to his astonishment, it had worked. He had practiced on and off over the intervening period, and was pleased to find that it was still working well, and would undoubtedly become second nature in time. Yet more proof, if more proof were needed, that in Jim’s admittedly biased view, Blair was indeed a natural Guide. 

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Jim climbed out of the truck and took the elevator to the sixth floor, his cool, calm demeanour no indication of the uncharacteristic nervousness that felt like the proverbial butterflies in his stomach. 

“Hey Jimbo! G’day, mate! How’re you? And how’s your cute new roommate?” Megan’s unselfconscious greeting rang out across the bullpen, causing Jim to frown in irritation. _So much for the blasted woman’s restraint, then,_ he thought to himself, sighing internally in resignation. _I wonder what else she’s been sharing? Why can’t people mind their own damned business?_

Forcing his mouth into a parody of a grin, Jim crossed to his desk trying to appear nonchalant as he replied, “He’s improving, Conner. Thanks for your concern. Did you find out anything else about why his building was condemned?” He was aware of curious eyes tracking his progress, but any further comments were forestalled by Simon’s customary bellowed command. 

“Ellison, Conner! My office, now!” 

Exchanging a wry grin, the two detectives moved to obey the summons, taking the seats their captain indicated once they had entered his inner sanctum. Glancing appraisingly from one to the other, Simon wasted little time on niceties. 

“Good to have you back, Ellison. You certainly look better. How’s Mr Sandburg doing? I assume he’s still at the loft?” 

“That he is, sir,” Jim replied, unable to contain the contented grin that spread across his handsome features. His happiness was further emphasised by the warmth in his normally ice-blue gaze, and both Simon and Megan approved of the change. 

“He’s coming on in leaps and bounds,” the habitually taciturn man continued cheerfully. “He’ll be able to have his stitches out soon, and he’s got an appointment at the dentist tomorrow morning to have his teeth capped. And all being well, he intends to defend his dissertation on Friday. So if it’s OK with you, sir, I’d like to take the morning as personal leave so I can drive him to Rainier. He won’t be driving himself for a while yet.” 

Somewhat nonplussed by Jim’s unaccustomed garrulity, Simon leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk and chin propped on his clasped hands as he studied his friend and subordinate. 

“Right. Pleased to hear it, Jim. It would appear that you’re not regretting taking him in, then. Which is just as well, because Conner’s dug up some information on why he lost his apartment. I’m sorry to rain on your parade, Jim, but it seems as if there’s more bad feeling circulating around the uniforms at the 14th than we thought. Care to elaborate, Conner?” 

Turning to face Jim, Megan’s expression was one of sympathy and regret as she addressed him. “I’m sorry Jim, but I did a little nosing around City Hall. Specifically, the departments dealing with urban re-development and Health and Safety issues. I’ve got a girl friend who works in admin there, and she pulled up some interesting material for me. It seems that Sandy’s landlord, Roy Bridges, was reported for serious code violations by certain police officers on Tuesday afternoon. Apparently it was only for Sandy’s building even though by the look of things, all his other properties are just as bad. She wasn’t prepared to identify the officers involved, but the calls were made not long after Sandy was detained at the 14th. It’s got to be more than a coincidence, don’t you think? More like cops getting their own back on Sandy for exposing them. 

“Anyhow, the TPTB in the department were concerned enough – or put under enough pressure - to act immediately, which is why Bridges was served with a notice so quickly. He’d received it not long before I got there. 

“I’m sorry, Jim,” she repeated, not liking the return of the grim-faced cop persona regarding her with narrow-eyed intensity. “It looks to me as if those bigoted arseholes were trying to intimidate Sandy into silence. I wonder if they realise how much you two are connected?” 

Turning his head to stare unseeingly at the wall for long moments, Jim digested Conner’s information, all traces of his earlier happiness thoroughly quenched. The cop in him detested the concept that any of his fellow officers could sink so low, while the primal Sentinel screamed for vengeance. To protect the Guide at all costs. It was all he could do to stop himself rushing out of the office and returning to the loft to stand guard over his precious charge. A deliberate cough from Simon brought him out of his brief reverie, and he turned back to face his boss, game face resolutely back in place. 

“I’m sorry too, Jim,” the big captain stated firmly, a frown of concern furrowing his brow. “I know I still find it very hard to accept the Sentinel voodoo shit you and Megan have tried to foist on me, but I believe that young Mr Sandburg has had a good influence on you already, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to be the target of dirty cops. When he’s up to it, you can bring him in and you can explain to me in more detail what it’s all about, and we’ll take it from there. Not that I’m promising anything, you understand? 

“But in the meantime, you and Conner can follow up on seeing if you can get anything more concrete on the identities of Danvers’ rotten apples. There are plenty of other cases awaiting your attention, but I want to see those bastards at least severely reprimanded as soon as possible for all our sakes.” 

Nodding brusquely, Jim answered for both of them, his voice now as cold as his eyes. “You got it, Captain. No one threatens my Guide and gets away with it.” 

Quietly thrilled to hear Jim claim ownership of the young man who had made such a good impression on her, Megan added her fervent agreement. “We’ll get right on it, sir.” 

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Rhonda, Simon’s cool, blonde and very efficient secretary peered in. “There’s a call for you on line three, sir. It sounds urgent. It’s a Sergeant Kowalski from the 14th Precinct concerning Detective Ellison, sir.” 

Instantly alert, Simon reached for the phone on his desk, aware that Jim and Megan were equally alarmed. And after a brief exchange of information, it was obvious why they had every reason to be.  


\-------------------------------  


**Part 3: The Threat from Within the Ranks:**  


**Same morning, back at the loft:**  


As soon as the door closed behind Jim, Blair was astonished at the feeling of emptiness which swept over him, as if some of the life had been sucked out of the loft. Shaking off the odd thought, he berated himself for such fanciful notions as he carefully levered himself to his feet to refill his coffee cup. Although he was moving much more easily now, sudden jerking or twisting made his chest hurt like a sonofabitch, so he swallowed down his frustration and bowed to the inevitable, easing himself upright like a little old man. 

Looking around him as he made his way over to the coffee pot, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he felt about Jim and the home he had thrown open to Blair without a second thought. In less than a week, it was already looking a little less Spartan, although it was pristine as ever. _No doubt due to a Sentinel’s desire for neatness and cleanliness,_ he thought with a small smirk. He surmised that his idea of cleaning was never going to fully satisfy Jim’s expectations. Yet there were homely touches in the colourful afghan that Blair had draped over the sofa back, and one or two of his nicer artefacts had already found their way to Jim’s shelves, and it hadn’t been Blair who had put them there. Sure, Jim had already introduced him to the ‘House Rules’, reciting them with a perfectly straight face despite Blair’s scarcely stifled snickering. And Blair was certain he had only heard the basics. He had a feeling that the list was going to be far more comprehensive than that. But yet he so wanted to be around to hear the rest of them. It was a source of wonderment to him that a private individual like Jim could have accepted Blair so easily, and Blair found himself hoping that it was more than just a ‘Sentinel and Guide’ thing. How he would love to feel that it was a Jim and Blair thing too, but that was just being ridiculous. If Jim wanted him, it was only for what Blair could do for him, and that was that. 

And if a part of Blair dreamed wistfully of something more permanent, despite his earlier protestations, then he stomped it down mercilessly. Whatever Jim’s claims – and Blair was sure that a man of such integrity truly meant them at the time – he was equally certain that once Jim had control of his senses he wouldn’t need Blair for anything more than an occasional source of information and backup when problems occurred. What else had Blair to offer except for reasonably well-informed advice and whole-hearted goodwill? 

And hadn’t he expressed just such a proposition himself? So why did he suddenly dread the moment when Jim would – undoubtedly very tactfully and gently– suggest that he find his own place again. 

Telling himself sharply not to be so morbid and to be grateful for what he had already received, he refilled his cup and moved determinedly back to the table, with every intention of losing himself in research for the article he was writing for ‘Anthropology Today’ magazine. 

He was busy scribbling notes from the first of several promising references pulled up on his laptop when there was a sharp knock on the door. Glancing up, he removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation, wondering if he could safely ignore the summons. Jim should be settled at his desk at the PD by now, and he hadn’t mentioned that he was expecting any callers or deliveries. Then again, it could be something important. Something about Jim. Suddenly anxious, Blair pushed himself to his feet and approached the door as quickly as possible, his expression one of frustration and annoyance directed at his still healing and uncooperative body overlying no small amount of trepidation. 

Remembering Jim’s directions, he slid the safety chain into place before peering through the spy hole. And saw two uniformed cops standing outside, looking very stern and business-like. 

He cracked open the door and peered through the small gap, not about to let them in until he had checked them out, his recent experiences not surprisingly making him uncharacteristically suspicious. 

“Can I help you, officers? Detective Ellison’s not here right now. Is there something wrong? He is OK, isn’t he?” 

There was something vaguely familiar about the older cop, but Blair couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure of what it was. He just felt uncomfortable, as if his gut instinct was trying to warn him that all was not as it should be. 

As well it might, because it was none other than Sergeant Bernie Muldoon, and one of his ‘brethren’, Officer Charles ‘Chas’ Costello. The man was arrogantly certain that Sandburg wouldn’t recognise him, since he and his colleague hadn’t been actively involved in Blair’s arrest, and even if the little fag had caught a glimpse of him while he was having the snot kicked out of him in lockup, Muldoon considered that he wouldn’t have had the time or the inclination to process the information. 

Arranging his features into a convincing expression of deep concern, Muldoon answered the young man’s worried question. 

“Are you Mr Sandburg, sir? Detective Ellison’s roommate?” When Blair nodded in affirmation, he continued, his tone suitably grave. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that there has been an incident. It concerns Detective Ellison. May we come in, sir? I think you’ll want to come with us. He was asking for you…” and he fixed Blair with a mournful and sympathetic gaze. 

Nearly overwhelmed by panic, Blair swallowed hard even as he released the chain and threw open the door. All thoughts of his own safety were overridden by his fear for Jim, and all he could think of was getting to his Sentinel’s side as quickly as possible. 

“Wha…what happened? Where is he? Is he badly hurt? He wasn’t supposed to be out in the field today. He told me he was only doing paperwork! What was he doing?” 

Blair knew he was babbling, but couldn’t help it. His terror was rolling over him like a tsunami, and it was all he could do to stop himself from freaking out completely. Backing away to let the cops enter, he didn’t register immediately that the older one had pulled his sidearm and was pointing it at Blair’s midriff, his expression now one of pure disgust and cold rage. 

When Blair froze in place in shock, Muldoon grinned nastily as his partner shut the door behind them. “God, you’re so easy, you stupid little shit! And you supposed to be a ‘professor’ and all. No wonder this country’s going to the dogs with perverts like you as teachers. And how an upstanding cop like Ellison could take up with a little fag like you beats me. You that good in the sack, you queer little bastard? There ain’t no other reason for taking you in, that’s for sure! 

“Doesn’t matter anyway. Once we’ve gotten rid of you, Ellison can get back to normal. If he knew what we’ve got planned for you, I’m betting he’d thank us once he’s got his head straight again. Straight – get it?” and he snickered mirthlessly. “Not that it’ll ever come out. We look after our own, so once you’re gone, we’re home free. 

“Now, come with us, and don’t even think of trying to shout for help. If you do, we’ll take down anyone that responds, and I’m sure you won’t want the death of an innocent on your conscience, now do you?” 

The expression of horror and disgust on Blair’s pale face was proof enough that Muldoon had judged his victim correctly, so he stepped forward and seized Blair by the upper arm, digging his pistol into the smaller man’s sore ribs and sniggering at Blair’s unintentional gasp of pain. Propelling the young man out into the hallway, his partner shut the door behind them, and moved to Blair’s other side, effectively hemming him in. 

Faces once more impassive and coolly professional, the rogue cops ushered their captive towards the elevator, waiting patiently as the ancient machine wheezed its way up to the third floor. 

The short trip out of the building and into the waiting patrol car passed in a blur for Blair, whose traumatised mind was still grappling with the swiftly-changing events. Undoubtedly he would normally have been better able to think on his feet despite the dire circumstances, but as he was only now recovering from another traumatic experience he felt as though his brain was short-circuited; caught between his very real fear for Jim and the likelihood of his own death at the hands of these assholes. _Oh, Jim, I need you! I’m so sorry. So sorry you’ll be alone again. Gods, I hope you find someone else you can turn to, because I don’t think it’s going to be me…_

Once in the back of the patrol car, Muldoon’s companion snapped handcuffs on Blair and secured him to the grab handle so that there was no possibility of escape. The young man winced at the way the awkward position caused his healing ribs to protest painfully, unable to quite prevent a small groan from escaping his lips. Nodding in grim satisfaction, the younger cop studied Blair briefly, the grimace twisting his sharp features similar to one he might wear if he had stepped in something disgusting. Shutting the rear door, he moved around to the driver’s seat and smirked at Muldoon. 

“Well, that was easy enough, Bernie. So, straight to the warehouse district then?” 

“Yeah, Chas. Let’s do it. The sooner we get rid of the little fag the better so we can all get back to normal. Ellison included,” and with a cruel answering laugh, Chas started the car and they pulled away.   


\-------------------------------  


Back in Banks’ office in Major Crimes, all hell was about to break loose. Roughly shoving his chair back, Jim leapt to his feet, his face a mask of fury mixed with fear and grim determination. “Come on Conner,” he barked peremptorily, ignoring the Inspector’s puzzled look. “We need to get to the abandoned cannery wharf right now! Call for backup, Simon,” he added, unconcerned that he was ordering his superior officer around like a common soldier under his command. “Tell them to meet us there soonest!” 

Momentarily taken aback, Simon did a quick double-take before realising in the next instant that Jim must have used his enhanced hearing to listen in to both sides of the telephone conversation. But now was neither the time to stand on his dignity nor ask unnecessary questions, so he also rose to his feet. 

“I’m going too, Ellison. You and Conner are with me. Like you said, there’s no time to waste, but we need to get there in one piece! You’ll be no good to Sandburg if you wrap your truck around a lamppost. Call the loft as we go. See if he’s there. You never know, they might have been delayed.” 

Although he scowled in frustration, Jim knew better than to waste time arguing, so he followed his boss as the big man strode purposefully across the bullpen, a bemused but determined Megan bringing up the rear. Pulling out his cell phone as he went, Jim speed dialled #307, but wasn’t surprised when it rolled over to the answering machine. He instinctively knew that Blair was already gone and in grave danger. He just prayed to whatever deity might be listening that they wouldn’t be too late. 

Bellowing to two more of his team, Simon shoved open the bullpen doors. “Rafe, H, haul ass! Meet us at Cannery Wharf. The disused dockyard. _Now,_ gentlemen!” 

Still perplexed even though she had no intention of not responding to the situation, Megan tugged at Jim’s sleeve, not in the least intimidated as the almost feral Sentinel glared down at her. 

“What is it, Jim? What did you hear? Is it Sandy?” 

Growling deep in his throat, Jim ground out, “Yes! It’s Blair. I’ll fill you in _en route,_ OK?” and he faced front again, matching Simon stride for stride until they reached the elevator. 

Mere minutes later, even if it felt like an eternity to the anxious Sentinel, they were in Simon’s sedan and peeling out of the underground parking garage like the proverbial bat out of hell. Banks had no problem with using lights and siren to carve a path through the morning traffic, while Jim managed to split his intense concentration just long enough to explain to Megan what had transpired, and what they should expect. 

Leaning forward in her seat in the back of the car, Megan poked Jim’s shoulder, not wanting to distract her boss while he was concentrating on his driving. “OK, Jimbo. Tell me. What’s going on here?” 

“The call was from Sgt Kowalski. He’s the weak-kneed loser who mans the desk in the 14th’s lockup. I had ‘words’ with him when I collected Blair, OK? 

“Anyhow, I could tell right away that he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but I didn’t have time to interrogate him then. He was just trying to cover his ass, and I had more important things to do. 

“However, it would appear that the good sergeant has had a fit of conscience. Or maybe he’s just scared out of his mind that I’ll come back and tear his head from his shoulders. Who knows? Whatever. 

“Anyway, he told Simon that he had overheard a conversation between a Sergeant Muldoon and a few cronies, boasting that they were going to ‘save’ me from the clutches of a dirty little fag. A fag who also might cause them a few problems if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. They’re going to take him somewhere where they can dump the body with minimum bother.” At this point, Jim sighed deeply, his anxiety almost palpable as he paused in his explanation. However, his cold rage reasserted itself as he met Megan’s horrified gaze with a deadly look of his own. 

“The abandoned wharf area is a popular dumping ground for the victims of mob executions and other homicides. It’s only populated by a few junkies and homeless people, who naturally never see anything. And the current there is particularly strong, so bodies are either carried away out to sea to be washed up miles away down the coast if they wash up at all, or sink quickly if they’re weighted down. Doesn’t take long for a weighted body to be covered in silt. It’s the perfect spot to dispose of Blair, and Muldoon knows it. If he’s careful, he can do the deed and we’ll never have the proof to convict, unless we catch him in the act. 

“But thanks to Kowalski and his guilty conscience, maybe - just maybe – we can get there in time.” Then his voice sank down to an ominous murmur, almost as if he was speaking to himself. 

“But I’m telling you now, whatever happens this day. If I don’t save Blair, I’m going after Muldoon. I’ll know whether he’s guilty or not. The senses will tell me. And once he’s dead, I’ll eat my gun. I won’t live without my Guide!” 

Megan’s face reflected her shock even as Simon shot Jim a horrified glance before turning back to concentrate on the road ahead. 

“Shit, Jim! Where the hell did that come from? I know you’re worried about the kid. So are we all. He’s a good man, and he doesn’t deserve this shit. But that’s extreme. Jesus, Jim, you only met him a week ago. How the hell can he mean so much to you so soon?” 

And Jim merely faced front again as he responded quietly but surely, “Because that’s the way it is, Simon. Between Sentinel and Guide.” 

“Well, for now I’m going to pretend that I never heard you, Ellison. You know I can’t let you do any such thing.” 

“You can’t stop me, Simon. Unless you shoot me first.” Jim’s tone was unrelenting as he stared stonily at the road ahead. 

“Then we’ll just have to pray we’re in time,” Simon growled, pushing the accelerator down even further. “Because that’s a choice I never want to have to make.” 

Shortly afterwards, Simon entered the run-down dockside area, lights and siren now silenced, and slowed to a crawl, looking for a likely place to park up. Jim wound the window down so he could cast his hearing out for signs that his Guide was in the vicinity, his head cocked in the universal listening pose as he concentrated with everything he had. Within minutes, he made a chopping motion with his hand, and Simon pulled in immediately behind a deserted warehouse and rolled to a stop. Staring intently at his subordinate, he waited for Jim to speak as another car carrying Rafe and H pulled in quietly behind them. 

“They’re here, Simon. I can hear Blair’s heartbeat; smell his fear. I can hear two other heartbeats in the immediate vicinity, which I assume is Muldoon and his crony. They’re on the dock on the other side of this warehouse. We need to go!” 

To his credit, Simon didn’t even question his friend’s information, simply climbing quickly out of his vehicle to update the two younger detectives. Another patrol car and an ambulance, again under orders to approach silently, pulled in a short distance away, their occupants awaiting word from Simon to close in as required. 

As for Jim, he was already out of the car and moving forward, weapon at the ready and with Megan at his shoulder as he moved swiftly but stealthily around the side of the dilapidated building, his eyes desperately seeking his Guide’s location. Pausing in the shadows until Simon, Rafe and H closed up behind him, he pointed silently towards the dockside, where Muldoon’s unit could be seen partially concealed behind some broken down lifting gear. Although it was too far away for the others to make out more than three shadowy figures moving closer to the water’s edge, to Jim every terrifying detail was crystal clear. His Guide hung between the two bigger cops, his hands cuffed in front of him and drooping heavily in their grasp as if barely conscious. His long curls curtained most of his face, but the portion Jim could see showed barely open blue eyes and pinched, pallid features, and the harsh breaths escaping the lush lips indicated stress and intense pain. Worse still for the anxious listener was the heartless conversation carrying on between Muldoon and Costello over his Guide’s bent head, and the Sentinel growled deep in his throat as he prepared to move in for the kill. 

“Shit, the little bastard’s heavier than he looks. Or I need to work out more,” Costello grunted as he hoisted his burden a little higher. 

“You need to work out more, Chas. Or stop eating so many doughnuts!” his companion chuckled. “Would have been easier if he could’ve walked on his own, which is your fault for slamming his head against the window, but we’re nearly there, so stop bitching!” 

“Yeah, well, he was annoying me. Doesn’t know when to shut up.” 

Suddenly, Costello sobered a little, almost as if he had realised just what he was about to do. 

“You really think this is the only way, Sarge? I mean, he’s probably scared enough to keep his mouth shut now, don’t you think?” 

“I’m not about to risk it. You said it yourself; he probably can’t help himself, the mouthy little shit. And we owe Ellison anyway, don’t we? Can’t have the reputation of Cascade’s next ‘Cop of the Year’ blighted by some faggot hanger-on. He’ll make a good example too. Then perhaps those jumped-up queer bastards who run the market will get the message and keep themselves to themselves in future instead of inflicting their disgusting presence on upstanding citizens.” 

“So, are you going to shoot him first, Sarge? Make sure there’s absolutely no chance he can save himself?” 

“Come on, Chas! Murder 101, remember? Say if I shoot him and by some miracle his body’s found? It does happen on occasion. Might get snagged on a fishing line or anchor cable or some such. Bullets and weapons can be matched, can’t they, and I don’t want anything traced back to me. And why would I waste a bullet on him anyway? I’ll just whack him over the head and in he goes. End of story.” 

At that point, Blair roused somewhat, his utter terror manifesting in unexpectedly strong adrenaline-fuelled resistance as he dug in his heels and fought against the cruel grip. Cursing loudly, Muldoon drew back his fist and delivered a frightening kidney punch that instantly curtailed Blair’s struggles, eliciting a cry of agony from the young man’s tortured throat. 

“Stupid little shit! Couldn’t make it easy on yourself, could you? Sayonara, fag!” and he raised the hand now holding his sidearm and brought the butt down hard on Blair’s unprotected skull. Grunting in effort as the sudden dead weight pulled at their arms, the cops heaved the stunned man over the edge of the wharf, only to whip around in shock as the splash of the body hitting the water coincided with a feral roar as a primal Sentinel bore down on them, eyes promising murder as he barrelled towards them. 

“Nooooooo! Blaaaair! _Noooooooooo!”_

Even before he had heard the tail end of the brutal discussion, Jim was up and moving in, his efforts redoubled during Blair’s short-lived fight back. He was mere yards away when the limp body was shoved into the water, but despite a part of him wanting nothing more than to stop and tear the two cops limb from limb, another, more urgent need to save his Guide sent him diving into the foul and murky depths, leaving the cops to his colleagues to deal with. 

Too long. It was taking too long! Jim kicked out strongly as he felt around for his Guide’s body, his lungs crying out for oxygen as he forced himself deeper. He could feel the undertow tugging fiercely at him, and knew that he only had moments in which to locate Blair and bear him back to the surface. Suddenly, just as he was about to give up due to oxygen deprivation, his fingers grazed material, and he clutched at it with all his strength. He knew instantly that it was Blair, so he used the last of his fading energy to propel them both upwards and away from the pull of the current, to burst through the surface with heaving lungs as he gratefully drew in life-giving air. There was no time to waste, however, and he kicked for the dock where Simon, his colleagues and the paramedics were waiting anxiously to relieve him of his precious burden and start CPR. 

Because Blair wasn’t breathing, and as Jim scrambled awkwardly up onto the dockside, pulled upwards with the help of Simon’s strong grip, Jim heard his Guide’s heart falter and stop beating. 

“No! God, NO!” the desperate man pulled roughly out of Simon’s supporting hands, throwing himself to his knees beside Blair’s saturated and supine body. “Breathe, Chief. Come on, baby, come on. Don’t you go, Blair!” 

“Jim! _Jim!_ Come on, man, let these guys do their work. Give them room, man!” Simon’s urgent words pierced Jim’s consciousness and he reluctantly pulled back and allowed his friend to help him to his feet, but he refused to move further away than absolutely necessary, barely registering when Megan draped a blanket around his shoulders. Instead he stood rigid, all his senses focussed on Blair, and on the EMT’s efforts to resuscitate him. 

“His heart stopped, Simon,” he whispered despairingly. “I heard it. They’re trying, but it’s not working!” and tears of utter devastation leaked from his eyes to trickle unheeded down his face, totally unaware that they were mirrored on Simon and Megan’s faces also. 

Long minutes later, the EMTs sat back, the young man nearest to them looking up resignedly to meet their combined gaze. “I’m sorry, guys. It’s no good. He’s gone.” 

It was too much for the Sentinel, who roared his disbelief and anguish to the skies. 

“NO! He’s still here! He’s not gone, he can’t be! You can’t give up!” 

“Jim, Jim, man! Give it up, my friend. He’s gone, Jim. Come away. There’s nothing you can do.” 

But Jim was having nothing to do with Simon’s attempt to comfort him, and pulled away to throw himself once more to his knees beside Blair’s still body. Cupping the cooling face between his palms he hissed urgently, “Don’t you do this, baby. Don’t you let go yet. You can’t leave me so soon. I won’t let you!” 

However, there was no response to his pleading, although he still refused to give up hope. Not yet. Please, not yet. 

And suddenly it seemed as if he was in a blue-tinted jungle, vaguely reminiscent of Peru if not for the surreal colour. And when a figure suddenly materialised before him, he recognised Incacha, his old friend and teacher. 

“Incacha! Help me! I found my Guide, just as you predicted, but he’s dying. Dead! I can’t believe you would let me find him only to take him back so soon. What must I do?” 

The shaman smiled gently, his eyes kind and sympathetic as he replied, “Enqueri, you have it in you to bring him back if he wants to come. Look deep into your soul, Enqueri; believe in yourself and do what must be done without fear or shame,” and before Jim could form a response, the figure faded from sight. 

_Gods! Could the guy be more cryptic?_ Jim was almost tempted to succumb to his despair when he saw a beautiful light in the distance. A light that beckoned, offering love and peace, and walking slowly towards it was a beautiful silver timber wolf. 

Frowning, Jim stared at the beast, knowing instinctively that there was something vitally important about it. Something vital to him. Then he jumped in surprise when a sleek black jaguar appeared beside him. A very angry and distressed jaguar. 

Jim recalled then that Incacha had told him that this was his spirit animal, and although Jim had scoffed at the notion at the time, right now he was glad of its presence. 

“Call to him. Call him back!” the animal seemed to say, staring at him intently with eyes as blue as his own. “Tell him we need him!” 

Not even pausing to consider the peculiarity of being telepathically dictated to by a large jungle cat, Jim called after the departing wolf. 

“Blair! Chief! Come back, baby. Don’t you give up on us. I need you. I love you, Chief!” 

The wolf paused and looked back at Jim with deep blue eyes. Blair’s eyes. And those eyes were suddenly suffused with hope and love. Turning around, the wolf began to run back, faster and faster as the jaguar ran to meet it. And then they were leaping into the air, to merge in a brilliant flash of light and all-encompassing love and understanding. 

And Jim found himself once again at the dockside, kneeling on the grubby and rotten planking where Blair’s drenched body suddenly jerked under his hands. The already beloved heart fluttered, stuttered then began to beat with growing strength and regularity as Blair coughed harshly and spewed up what seemed like gallons of dirty sea water. 

Shocked out of their momentary stupor, the EMTs quickly got to work to stabilise their miracle patient, and at last Jim allowed himself to be helped to his feet by an astounded, but very grateful Simon. 

“Dammit, Jim! What was that? What the hell did you do?” 

And Jim grinned weakly as he answered, his own expression uncharacteristically soft and wistful. “Like I said before, Simon. It’s a Sentinel and Guide thing. That’s all I need to know.”  


\----------------------------------  


**Some hours later, Cascade General Hospital:**  


Once again Jim sat at Blair’s bedside, impatiently willing the young man’s eyes to open. 

“You know what, Chief? This is getting old,” he murmured fondly, although his eyes were dark with worry and exhaustion weighed heavily on tired muscles. “I need you to wake up and talk to me, Blair. We’ve got so much to talk about, you and I. And that’s some admission coming from me, let me tell you, so don’t give up the chance to make the most of it, huh? You know, Chief, I’ve never been good at expressing myself. Never really had any reason to before, I guess, because there’s never been anyone I particularly wanted to confide in. Or who wanted me to anyway. Sure, Carolyn complained that I never opened up to her, but on the odd occasion I did, she was too much caught up in her own business to take any notice, so I gave up trying. Like with my dysfunctional family, but let’s not get into that. Maybe some time I’ll tell you about my not-so-happy childhood, but not now. It doesn’t matter anymore. 

“What I’m trying to say here, babe, is that you mean so much to me even after just a few days, and I need you to wake up and tell me you feel the same. And to tell me you were there too, babe, in the same vision. Because we’re bound together now, Chief. I’m sure of it, but I need to know you’re sure also.” 

Pausing for a moment, he gazed hopefully at the pale face, but there was still no sign of returning consciousness, so with a tired sigh, he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, although he didn’t relinquish his hold on Blair’s hand. He only intended to relax for a moment, but between one breath and the next, he fell asleep. 

When he woke again, it was to find Simon and Megan in the room, worriedly studying both him and the still figure in the bed. 

“Hey, Jim, how’re you doing, man?” Simon asked quietly, the unusually hushed tone evidence of his concern. “Got to say you’ve looked better, but you’re still an improvement on the kid there. Has he woken at all yet?” 

“Hey, Simon, Megs. Thanks for dropping by. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired is all. I haven’t done any swimming like that in a long time, and I don’t want to make a habit of it. 

“Blair, on the other hand, isn’t so good. They’re pumping him full of antibiotics to counter the filthy muck he swallowed and hopefully stave off pneumonia, but he’ll no doubt have a concussion and the headache from hell again. The scans showed no sign of a skull fracture, but he’ll be kept under observation to make sure there’s no internal damage. Getting slammed again so soon after the last time won’t have done him any favours, so it’s a good thing that he appears to have quite a hard head!” and he grinned sadly as he squeezed the lax fingers resting in his palm, uncaring as to what his friends thought of the intimacy of the action. 

“Poor little bugger,” Megan murmured in sympathy. “It’s so unfair on him. I almost feel guilty for having pointed you in his direction, but I still believe that in the long run it was the right thing to do. I think you belong together despite all the trouble you’ve been through,” and she reached over to squeeze Jim’s shoulder gently. 

Jim reached up to pat her hand with his free one, and offered her a grateful if sad smile. 

“Thanks, Megs. If everything turns out OK, I’ll owe you one. We both will. But even if it doesn’t, I still appreciate your time and effort on my behalf. And I believe that Blair would be the last person to lay any blame on you. He’s just too gentle a soul.” And although he didn’t say as much, Jim knew that for a fact now, having learned everything there was to know about his Guide in the instant of their merging. 

On the other hand, despite his real concern for the pair of them, Simon was still far from convinced about the suitability of the prospective partnership; or the potential value of its contribution to his department; and he knew there were going to be hard words exchanged very soon. But for now he was prepared to leave the matter alone until Sandburg was well enough to defend himself, and contented himself with more mundane issues. 

Picking up the bag he had deposited at his side on arrival, he handed it over to Jim. “Got some dry clothes for you, Jim. I figured you wouldn’t want to have to wear borrowed scrubs any longer than necessary. Brought some sweats for Sandburg too. I had his clothes bagged for forensics in the ER. Not that I think there’ll be any evidence on them of vital importance to the case against Muldoon and Costello. What with Kowalski’s call and the eye witness accounts of several MCU detectives, they won’t be wearing the uniform ever again. And depending on which judge they land up in front of, they could well be looking at serious jail time. Years of it, if there’s any justice. Now it’s just a case of seeing if we can scoop up any more of the 14th’s rotten apples before they go to ground, which may take some time. Whatever the case, I think we’ve heard the last of Muldoon’s nasty little band of bigots for a while. I just wish I could believe that it’s finished with for good. But we all know better than that,” he ended sadly. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Simon. It doesn’t seem to matter how good the screening process is during recruitment. There will always be a few assholes that slip through the net. But whereas usually they keep their sick opinions to themselves, this time they were encouraged to air them. And even worse, act on them. It can’t happen again Simon. For the sake of the whole PD.” 

“From your mouth to God’s ear, Jim. Anyway, we’ll leave you in peace for now. Give our regards to Sandburg when he decides to wake up, and don’t worry about hurrying back. I’ve signed you off for an indefinite leave of absence so you can take care of your Guide for as long as it takes. I’ll look in on you both tomorrow, OK? Goodnight, Jim.” 

“Goodnight, sir. And thanks again. To both of you,” and Jim grinned tiredly as they took their leave, only for his smile to be replaced by lines of stress and care when he turned back to face the bed. 

To see two sleepy blue eyes watching him as Blair’s mouth twitched in the tiniest grin. 

All signs of strain disappeared in an instant as Jim gawped in wordless amazement for a long moment, until his mouth decided to cooperate with his brain again. Unrestrained happiness bubbled up from within as he took Blair’s hand in both of his, stroking and squeezing gently as he murmured, “Hey, babe. There you are! Gods, Chief, it’s so good to see you awake.” And then it was all too much and tears of relief and joy began to stream unchecked down his face. 

Sniffing loudly, and seeing the look of anxiety forming on the younger man’s face, Jim smiled affectionately again as he fought for control. “It’s OK, Chief. Don’t worry. I’m just so glad to see you, is all. Don’t try to speak yet. Just let me look at you,” and he reached over and stroked the smooth forehead with a careful hand. 

Reassured, Blair’s eyes slid shut again, but he leaned into the gentle touch, obviously soaking up the tactile comfort that Jim was only too glad to provide. And as he sank back into a healthy, healing sleep, the gaping wounds in Jim’s soul were also healed, and the Sentinel’s heart sang with the wonder of it as he settled once again to watch over the most important person in his life.  


\-----------------------------  


**Epilogue: A Joint Venture:**  


**Six months later:**  


Jim re-read the file on his desk, mentally preparing himself for the task in hand. He had been asked to go over the scene of a potential double homicide to see if he could garner any more specific evidence, but it was something he wasn’t about to do without his Guide and backup, who was due to arrive at any moment. Glancing at the clock, Jim curtailed his impatience with a wry grin. It wasn’t just because he wanted to get on with the job, although that was of great importance to him, but also because he hadn’t seen or touched his partner since breakfast time, and he freely admitted to himself that he missed the warm and bouncy presence of his unique Guide, partner and best friend. 

With a few minutes to spare before said partner’s arrival, he allowed himself the luxury of reflecting on the development of their partnership, and how both their lives had been affected – for the most part, most satisfactorily. And that went for their chosen careers also, even though there had been some necessary modification, particularly on Blair’s part. But the young man had accepted the changes with surprising equanimity considering all he’d been through, and considering what he had foreseen as his career path, and for that Jim was more than grateful, and humbled too. He would never have considered himself worthy of such a wonderful man’s love and dedication, and every day he thanked who or whatever brought Blair into his life. 

He was well aware that their meeting up had hardly been auspicious at the outset, thanks to circumstances beyond their control. The violence Blair had suffered was unforgivable, even if it had forced an encounter in the first instance, and their potential partnership had almost been destroyed before it began. But they had come through their trial by fire to forge a life together and a place for themselves, and neither of them regretted that. 

Staring unseeingly at the paper in his hand, Jim’s thoughts turned towards the days following Blair’s return from the hospital for the second time, recalling both his anxiety on Blair’s account, and the tenderness that caring for his new partner had elicited in a man who thought himself incorrigibly hard and unbending, only to find that he was capable of both love and being loved, and the revelation had been mind-blowing. 

Thanks to the second head injury, Blair had been slower to recover than they had hoped, and had suffered from debilitating headaches for days. Dr Wu, who like most of the nursing staff had been totally won over by the young man, had kept a weather eye on his progress even after his discharge, ensuring that follow up appointments were met and that Blair was afforded the best advice she could provide. In Jim she had found a worthy accomplice in caring for her favourite patient, and once he was on the mend and able to appreciate the fact, Blair was more than grateful for a level of care and comfort he had never before experienced, even from his own mother. 

Of necessity, the defence of his dissertation had had to be put back for some weeks, but once Blair had felt himself ready, he had successfully passed with flying colours, and was now officially Dr Sandburg, and Jim couldn’t have been more proud of him. And had then been amazed and humbled at the subsequent choices Blair had made, with input from both his colleagues at Rainier and potential colleagues at the PD. 

It had to be said that Simon had played a big part in aiding their joint decisions, despite his initial reservations. He had ensured that Jim could take as much time as he needed to care for the young man, and once Blair was well enough, had afforded him the opportunity to convince Simon, the Commissioner and the Chief of Police that there was substance to their claims. With Jim’s willing cooperation, Blair was able to demonstrate how beneficial a Sentinel and Guide partnership could be within the PD, after which it was a case of deciding just how this could be accomplished without ‘outing’ Jim to the bad guys as some sort of superman. 

And once again, Blair had come up with a workable solution. Even before Jim’s senses had come online again, he had had an impressive arrest and conviction record, and now it was even better. But rather than reveal the full reason for his success rate, they just casually let it be known that Jim had better than average eyesight and hearing and left it at that. As long as the evidence Jim gathered was backed up with hard fact and solid police work as far as the DA was concerned, there was no need to reveal the true range of his ability. And for the most part, the partial explanation was easily accepted within the PD as a whole, and if Jim’s closer friends and colleagues in Major Crimes suspected that there was more to his ‘edge’ than that, they kept it to themselves within the unit as an ‘open secret’. Only Simon, Megan, the Chief and the Commissioner knew the whole story, and they weren’t about to spread the word to the outside world. 

Of course, there was also the question of how to enable the Sentinel’s Guide to accompany him, and once again Blair managed to provide the means to accomplish that. 

During his recovery, Blair had thought long and hard about how he could change his life and his career to fit around Jim’s – a choice he no longer had any difficulty in making. It had taken a while to convince Jim that his decision was wholly voluntary, and not made through a misplaced feeling of gratitude or hero worship, but in that respect their growing connection had served them well. Because Jim had ‘learned’ his Guide so completely during the merging of their animal spirits, he knew that Blair believed whole-heartedly in his suggestions, and it only needed Jim to accept them to make it happen. And eventually he had, despite his deep-seated conviction that he wasn’t worthy of the young man’s sacrifice. 

What it boiled down to was that Blair had turned down an offer of tenure with Rainier, accepting instead a position as adjunct professor to the Anthropology Department. His students and colleagues, especially Eli Stoddard, had been disappointed, but had accepted his decision, and were happy to make the most of his part-time availability for teaching, lecturing and tutoring. After all, as he confided to Eli, it would be difficult for him now to go on extended expeditions, something which a tenured professor would be expected to do. And if Eli knew the real reason for Blair’s decision to be available for Jim, he kept it to himself. 

The rest of his time was taken up with supporting his Sentinel, and that was accomplished with the cooperation of TPTB at the PD. After Blair had received his doctorate, Simon had helped him with the conception and creation of a part-time consultancy position which had been received with surprising enthusiasm for the most part. Of course, it meant that he had to be available to any department who required his expertise in anthropological matters, but he always ensured he was there for Jim as needed. And over the months since his appointment, he had won over many of his detractors simply through his sunny nature and helpful but non-condescending attitude. Even those who initially distrusted his unconventional appearance and approach to investigations were forced to admit that his brilliant and agile mind allowed him to absorb and reassess facts in a fresh light which more often than not solved otherwise seemingly impossible cases. And if Jim’s own case-solving rate had continued to improve with Blair’s presence, then that also was accepted with barely a second thought. 

Yes, there were still those who disliked Blair as a matter of principle simply because he didn’t fit in with their perception of what constituted ‘real’ police work, and a certain – now mostly silent and subdued - element still held a grudge over his part in the downfall of Muldoon and his ‘fraternity’, but his friends and admirers were too many now for those mean-spirited individuals to risk harming MCU’s new mascot. And who in their right mind would want to upset Ellison? If anyone doubted the big detective’s protective and possessive attitude towards the young consultant, all they had to do was whisper some insult in the Sentinel’s hearing to provoke a confrontation they would regret. 

Soon Jim’s attention was drawn to the sounds of his partner’s beloved heartbeat as he made his way from the parking garage to Jim’s side, and Jim’s grin widened as he listened to his partner sharing a ribald joke with Rafe and H, with whom he was sharing the elevator. It pleased Jim no end that the dapper young detective and his ebullient partner had taken so well to Blair, and that, plus Megan’s open affection had done as much as anything to ease Blair’s acceptance into the unit and from there into the other departments with which he interacted. 

Yes, Jim was sincerely proud of the progress made by his partner, Guide and lover. 

And that last was the cause of the warmth that spread now through Jim’s heart and soul. For now he and Blair were together in all ways, and the grateful Sentinel couldn’t help but recall in exquisite detail the momentous occasion when they consummated their partnership and their love.   


\-------------------------------  


During Blair’s recovery, the necessary intimacy of Jim’s tending to his injured roommate had deepened the affection and desire growing between them, even though Blair was in no condition to act upon it for some while. Both of them were happy indulge in gentle kissing and making out on the sofa, and Blair had moved up to share Jim’s bed upstairs, but that was as far as it went. However, once he felt strong enough, he had willingly bowed to the inevitable, and had shyly asked Jim to take him, and seal their partnership once and for all. Jim had been both eager and anxious, not wishing to take advantage of his friend, only to be reassured by Blair’s words. 

“Jim, man, I’m sure. I promise you this isn’t something I’m doing lightly. It’s the right thing to do, and not just because of the Sentinel and Guide thing. Remember the merge, Jim. You know everything about me, so you know I’m telling the truth. I understand now that we were meant to be together. Two halves of one soul, just like Incacha predicted. And I’m ready. I was in denial, I admit it. I was scared of the commitment. Was worried that I wasn’t good enough for you. But this is bigger than both of us as individuals. It’s a chance to make a real difference, to reach our full potential.” 

And Jim couldn’t help but smile fondly as he recalled Blair’s next words, and the delightful blush that had accompanied them. 

“Um, there’s just one thing, man. I mean, you already know how attracted I am to you, and I’ve always gone along with Naomi’s belief that it’s the person, not the package that’s important. But I’ve never actually gone the whole way with any of the guys I’ve dated. Never quite trusted them enough, you know? But I trust you, man. I do.” 

And Jim had responded fervently, “Thank you, baby. For wanting me, and for trusting me. Yes, I’ve had experience, although I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I’d ever ‘made love’ to another man. But I would be honoured to make love to you, Blair. And we’ll go at your pace, baby. Let me take care of you. You’re not fully healed yet, and I won’t risk hurting you, so let me do the work, OK?” 

And Blair had done him the ultimate honour of allowing him to do just that. He had allowed Jim to thoroughly imprint him, the experience of being the focus of Jim’s undivided attention a huge turn-on for the smaller man. Jim had explored and imprinted every inch of Blair’s body with each of his senses, until Blair was burning with desire and lust. And after Jim had prepared him so carefully for penetration at last, the brief pain of entry was swiftly extinguished by a joy and need so fierce that he had cried out in passion. And as they had moved together to an amazing, mutual climax, they merged once again, their physical union as complete and awe-inspiring as that of their spirit animals, and they were joined as one forever. 

In the lazy aftermath, Jim had murmured to the warm and sated bundle of well-loved Guide in his arms, “So, not just karma then, Chief?” to which Blair had responded sleepily but with feeling. 

“No, Jim. I know I said I believe now that we were destined to be together, but I think it’s more complex than that. Nothing’s set in stone, and we still had choices to make if it was going to work. And I finally made the right ones. I chose _you,_ Jim, and not just because you’re a Sentinel. You’re the best friend I ever had, and I love you. The man who has given me a proper home for the first time ever; and also given my life real purpose. Yes, I love studying and teaching, always will, but now I have everything I ever needed. I have you. 

“And I’m a Dad! How cool is that?” and Jim just had to chuckle at the excited addendum. Because Ella had given birth to Madeleine Blair Jamie Burgstrom-Evers just two days after Blair’s rescue from Muldoon’s clutches, and Jim and Blair had instantly fallen in love with the tiny baby girl. 

As for Jim, he had revelled unashamedly in that of which he was already aware, that Blair was beautiful both inside and out, and totally devoted to Jim. And Jim swore then and there that he would love, protect and cherish his Guide and now lover until death, and probably even beyond.   


\---------------------------------  


Coming back to himself as the doors opened to admit his Guide, Jim’s grin widened even more as Blair virtually bounced across the bullpen towards him, offering and receiving cheerful greetings as he approached. Reaching Jim’s side, he smiled up at the taller man, eyes sparkling with love and happiness as he basked in the warmth of Jim’s regard. Their expressions promised good things to come, although they kept their true relationship to themselves as a matter of expediency. They figured that their sex life was nobody’s business but their own, and what their colleagues didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Jim was well aware that Megan had her suspicions, and Simon certainly did, but their boss and friend assured them that he didn’t need to know, and they left it at that. 

Sobering somewhat, Blair glanced at the file in Jim’s hands. “Is that the case you’ve been asked to look at, man?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah, ‘fraid so, Chief. It’s a tricky scene, apparently, so Homicide’s requested that I – _we_ – give it the once-over. Ostensibly a suicide pact, but possibly a double homicide, so Captain Digby wants it checked out. You OK with that?” 

“Sure, man. Let’s go. The sooner you do your thing, the better, huh?” Then he cheered up again as Jim gathered up his coat in preparation to leave. 

“Hey, are you still on for the ‘Marketeers’’ meeting at the U tonight? Ella and Maddie’ll be there, and they’re bringing the Sprog. Ella says she’s crawling now, and she has another tooth!” 

“Wouldn’t miss it, Chief. It’ll be good to meet everyone again, and it’s been too long since we’ve seen little Maddie Blair. And crawling, huh?” 

And as Blair nodded excitedly, the pair left the bullpen, the rapport between them almost tangible, and ample evidence that all was right in the Sentinel and Guide’s world.  


**The End.**


End file.
